


And Really, It's No Surprise

by ContumaciousPauper



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Cancer, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContumaciousPauper/pseuds/ContumaciousPauper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Studious and shy Beca and outgoing, popular Chloe are an unlikely pair of best friends - have been so since middle school. But when Beca is diagnosed with cancer right before her senior year, she shuts everybody out, afraid of the pain her possible death could cause. As unresolved feelings between the two are finally aired, Beca grabs onto the one strand of hope that she's protecting her friends in the future despite hurting them now. And really, it's no surprise that nothing works out the way she wants it to.</p>
<p>Based on this post: http://clovnissheart.tumblr.com/post/46642931290/bechloe-pain-fic-idea-beca-and-chloe-have-been</p>
<p>Idea credit goes to clovnissheart on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That the Brightest Girl Has the Brightest Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The moment I read the prompt by clovnissheart, I knew I couldn't resist writing it. So here I am, and I look forward to seeing where this goes. The credit for this story is given to clovnissheart, because without that prompt, there would be no story here.
> 
> This is a sad fic, so be forewarned. I know cancer is a heavy subject, and I'll do my best to portray it as accurately as possible despite my complete inexperience with the subject. If I make any mistakes in regards to research, please let me know. 
> 
> Also, I'm playing around a bit stylistically. The writing may seem a bit rambly at times, but I want it to reflect Beca's thoughts in a way; it's not quite the same as a traditional third person limited POV.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I've had a lot of fun writing this so far, and I know I'll enjoy writing even more as I expand this idea into a full-blown story. Thanks for reading!

_**And Really, It’s No Surprise** _

__

_Prologue:_

_That the Brightest Girl Has the Brightest Eyes_

                Their first meeting was admittedly incidental and entirely not what Beca was expecting.

                She was on the way to class and she was quite certain that showing up five minutes late on the first day was most certainly _not_ going to earn her brownie points with her teacher, but the school was large and unfamiliar and really nothing was going right today; her alarm conveniently decided to take a day off, her parents were fighting _already_ (normally this didn’t start until evening or early afternoon), and the clothes she’d carefully set aside the night before had mysteriously vanished (she suspected her mom had absentmindedly grabbed them without realizing they were clean). So really, it was no wonder that Beca was frantically pacing the hallways of the middle school, head whipping back and forth to scan all of the room numbers while the one she sought was repeated as a mantra in her head. _Room C113, C113, C113, C –_

                _Smack._

                Shaking her head to clear the dizziness, Beca sat up on the hall floor and quickly grabbed her books. Only then did she look up to see an equally dazed girl sprawled out on the tile in front of her, red hair splayed messily about her head. Getting to her knees, Beca held out her hand. “Er, do you need any help?” she asked hesitantly.

                A groan was the other girl’s response, before a pale hand clasped Beca’s own. Beca hauled the other girl into a sitting position, then got to her feet, offering her hand once more. Once more the offer was received, and the other girl was finally upright, rubbing her head before turning bright blue eyes (seriously bright blue, like those LCD Christmas lights that were supposed to be white but always looked a bit aquamarine-ish) on Beca and smiling this ridiculously big smile with ridiculously white teeth and –

                Beca shook her head to clear her rambling thoughts as the girl with the bright blue eyes and the messy red hair and the perfect white teeth began to speak. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going at all but I can’t seem to find my class and it’s already so late and you wouldn’t happen to know where room C113 is, would you?”

                And really, Beca didn’t mean to laugh, but the coincidence was too funny, and the laugh just bubbled up in her throat before she could stop it. The girl hmphed in annoyance, clearly mistaking the reason behind Beca’s laughter. “Well then, there’s no need to be so rude. I apologized, you know, honestly.”

                Beca waved a hand. “No, no, it’s just, that’s where I’m going too.” She quirked a smile at the girl, who immediately brightened.

                “Oh, okay then! Let’s go together! I’m Chloe, by the way!” The girl, Chloe, was the one to offer her hand this time, and Beca smiled shyly before clasping it with her own.

                “I’m Beca.”

                Chloe leaned in close and whispered, “I think we’re gonna be fast friends.” With a wink, she pulled away and began to skip down the halls, turning as she did so to call, “Come on, Beca, let’s find our class before we miss the entire thing!”

                 The whole situation was bordering on absurd, but there was something about Chloe that made Beca smile, a smile that hadn’t graced her face for years. She hoped she’d be seeing more of this Chloe.

                Chloe’s prediction had turned out to be entirely accurate, of course, mostly in part because she willed it to be. Beca was shy and closed off, but Chloe wouldn’t leave her alone, and something had clicked between the two of them from their very first meeting.

                Halfway through seventh grade, Chloe became the first person besides Beca’s mom that had heard the short brunette’s mixes, and the squeal of excitement and amazement caused Beca’s face to flush. She’d never really known whether or not to trust her mom’s word on her skills, because parents were notorious liars in such circumstances, but Chloe’s reaction was so genuine that it really couldn’t be helped if Beca’s confidence grew a little.

                And really, it was only fitting that her first fully mixed CD be given to Chloe on the first day of eighth grade to signify a whole year’s worth of friendship with the girl who smashed through her barriers.

                Chloe was a pretty (gorgeous) girl with an outgoing attitude and a smile like the sun, so it was hardly a surprise that she fit right in with the popular clique once eighth grade year got going. The first time Beca saw Chloe with them, a shiver of fear ran through her at the thought of losing her best friend, and with eyes starting to glisten, she stood awkwardly from afar as Chloe laughed with her new friends. Well, Beca had expected that Chloe would move on some day – why should she be held back by the awkward girl who never talked? Sadness weighing heavy in her heart, Beca turned to leave, wistfully thinking back on her days of friendship with Chloe. The other girl had been Beca’s first real friend in years, so of course she was sad that it was coming to an end, and that Chloe was moving on and –

                Two arms encircled Beca in a vice-like grip as a voice murmured , “And where do you think you’re off to, missy?” in her ear. As the smile she shared only with Chloe spread across her face, Beca mentally slapped herself for thinking that her friend was going to leave her (after which Chloe chided her for the exact same reason).

                Even if Beca never did get to know many other kids in her grade, and even if they did all flock to Chloe, demanding her time and attention, Chloe always made sure that Beca was her top priority, and the two proceeded to be the best of friends.

                They grew closer in February when Beca’s parents finally divorced, and when the screaming at home got too much for her to handle, Beca would grab a coat and her phone and walk to the street corner, and after a few short minutes Chloe and her dad would be there, smiling and encouraging her to hop on in. She spent many nights sleeping over at Chloe’s house, and the two bonded over the littlest things and the biggest things. And it was okay if every so often Beca found herself crying in Chloe’s arms about her parents, because Chloe didn’t judge her like anyone else. She just whispered soft encouragements and stroked Beca’s hair and held her through the night.

                Chloe was always there to hold her and lift her up, and it was on New Year’s Eve in the middle of freshman year in high school at approximately 11:59 p.m. that Beca realized that maybe she liked Chloe a tiny bit more than as a friend.

                Because as the clock counted down in New York, and as Chloe’s parents leaned in for a kiss, Beca realized that she kind of wanted to do that too, and she kind of wanted to do that with the girl with the bright blue eyes and the messy red hair and the perfect white teeth that she’d run into in the hallways so very long (yet really not so long) ago.

                She didn’t, because she was scared of losing her best friend; she was scared of Chloe walking out on her like her dad did last year, and while deep inside she knew Chloe wouldn’t do that, there was still the niggling fear, and Beca had never been a terribly confident girl to begin with. So she kept her mouth shut and her feelings hidden, and maybe occasionally she’d glance at Chloe when the other girl wasn’t looking, and maybe occasionally she thought about being in Chloe’s arms once again, and maybe occasionally she thought about kissing Chloe and the taste of her lips and if they were really as soft as they looked.

                But Beca never did anything more, and that was okay, because she was content to laugh and smile and be happy with her best friend in the whole world.

                The summer before senior year changed everything.


	2. That Happiness Cannot Be Hers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thanks so much to everyone who read and enjoyed the fic, and especially to those few who left kudos!
> 
> On to the fic! This chapter is much longer than the prologue, and this will probably be about the average length for chapters from here on. I also think I deserve a little bit of credit for starting out with fluff (but don't get used to it).
> 
> Also, Aubrey! I love Aubrey. I can’t leave Aubrey out, I really can’t, so expect to see some of her in this fic, even if she’s not in this chapter. (I just really want the super protective best friend – this can be played as both fluffy and angsty in confrontations with Beca.) I likely won’t bring in any other characters from the film (apart from Beca’s dad) because I really want the focus to solely be on Beca and Chloe, and while I adore Fat Amy and Lily and Cynthia Rose and Benji and platonicfriend!Jesse, I’m worried they’d only serve as a distraction to the core of the fic. 
> 
> Here’s chapter one! I hope you enjoy! And as always, if you spot any inaccuracies, let me know – I’m no expert in medical knowledge, and I don’t pretend to be, so there’s always a large likelihood of me writing something false. Most of the medical stuff will come in next chapter, though. 
> 
> Slight warning for language.
> 
> I promise future author notes will not be this long. Enjoy!

_**And Really, It’s No Surprise** _

__

_Chapter One:_

_That Happiness Cannot Be Hers_

 

                Suffice it to say, Chloe’s reaction was never going to be quite the normal one, and really, Beca should have known better. There were no “We’re finally seniors!” or “Thank god the exams are over!” when Chloe leaped into the air outside of the school after their final test of their junior year. Rather, she laughed exuberantly, gave Beca a conspicuous wink, then shouted with all of her might, “We’re seniors and we’re single, so line up!”

                Oh. Good. God. Beca’s jaw dropped as she held up a hand up to shield her face from the turning heads.

                Cackling beside her, Chloe slung an arm around Beca’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Come on, Becs, let’s go _mingle_.” She punctuated the last word with a wiggle of her hips, and Beca shoved her off, cracking a smile of her own.

                “Dude, no, oh my god. Why would you even do that.”

                Chloe only threw back her head and laughed harder. The other students that had turned at her announcement realized it was just Chloe being Chloe and went about their activities once more. It was somewhat sad that this was not a terribly rare occurrence. “You’re so cute when you blush like that, you know?”

                Beca’s eyes widened and she raised her arms to shield her face – which was, admittedly, blushing quite fiercely. Once Chloe had figured out, sometime in the midst of eighth grade year, that Beca was incredibly squeamish in the face of such comments, well, there was no stopping her. “Geez, Chlo, can you tone it down for just one day?”

                Blue eyes twinkling, Chloe smirked and shook her head. “You love it, don’t even pretend you don’t.”

                Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Beca held up her hands in defeat. “Yeah, okay, you got me. I love being publicly embarrassed the moment I become a high school senior.”

                “Yeah you do!” Chloe squeezed Beca’s shoulders before taking a step back. “Come on, let’s go grab a treat to celebrate!”

                “ _Trey’s_?”

                “You know it.”

…

                _Trey’s_ was a local ice cream parlor, situated in the crook of two big department stores and often overshadowed by the big names within its neighbors. Most people would overlook it, but the few who noticed and came in were hooked the moment they tasted the signature ice cream of the shop. There was something so utterly unique about the texture, and it was beyond addicting.

                Sitting in their usual window seat, Beca enjoyed her bowl of Velvet Vanilla, while Chloe sipped her usual chocolate shake. It was a typical hideout of theirs, and they were frequent customers both in the afternoon and the morning ( _Trey’s_ served a mean coffee too). It was their celebration place, just for the two of them, and as Beca shifted in her seat, she watched Chloe, and saw how the light hit the ginger hair just right, and thought of how content Chloe looked and how content Beca felt, and really, everything in the world was _right_.

                They were seniors, they were closer than ever, and this summer was going to be the best summer ever. Well, half of it, before Chloe went on her annual family retreat to some lake on the East Coast, but Beca had dealt with it in the past (had even _gone_ on one between freshman and sophomore year) and she knew how to occupy her time while her best friend was away.

                There was also the slight bonus that Chloe wasn’t dating anyone, because even though Beca had long ago accepted that nothing would ever happen between the two, it didn’t squelch the tiny satisfaction that, in this moment, Chloe was _hers_. Yeah, okay, maybe just as a friend, but it was _Beca_ that Chloe was celebrating the end of junior year with, not some no-hack boyfriend, not even Aubrey, but _Beca_.

                “ – need to call the police, because I think my best friend’s just gone missing and I feel the slightest obligation to put out a report?”

                Beca snapped back into reality to see a smirking Chloe. “Uh, what?”

                “Oh, never mind, she’s been found again, looks like that missing persons report won’t be needed after all.”

                “…Wait, ‘slightest obligation’?”

                The melodic laugh sent shivers down Beca’s spine. “That only took five minutes. I was _trying_ to talk to you, but I think you left Earth for a bit there.”

                “Yeah, emergency ISS meeting,” Beca quipped, only eliciting a broader smile from her companion.

                Chloe replied, “Tell them to buzz off. When you’re on Earth, you’re _mine_.” She leaned forward, her voice growing continually softer towards the end of the sentence, until she breathed the last word an inch from Beca’s face, and Beca felt her cheeks grow warm and her body freeze and oh my god Chloe was so ridiculously close and it would take less than a second to just lean over and give a quick peck on the lips and –

                Another peal of laughter split the air as Chloe pulled back, shaking her head in disbelief. “Honestly, Beca, it is _way_ too easy to tease you!”

                As Beca huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, a small (rather big) part of her wished that Chloe wasn’t just teasing her, and that there was meaning behind her actions. After all, she never acted that way around any of her friends but Beca. Not even Aubrey got the full-on Chloe ‘I’m-going-to-tease-you-until-your-face-is-redder-than-my-hair’ experience.

                But it was just Chloe being Chloe. She’d always been this touchy-feely, even in middle school, and Beca, with her stone walls and aversion to touch, well, Beca was a challenge, and Chloe never backed down from a challenge. (That and, as she said, Beca getting flustered was incredibly ‘cute’ which, of course, served to fluster Beca more, and really, she had every right to be flustered because she’d turned into quite the badass and she didn’t need Chloe belittling her.)

                “You know, the whole lip-biting thing when you’re thinking just makes you cuter.”

                Beca narrowed her eyes, shooting daggers towards Chloe and making a noise vaguely resembling a cross between ‘hmph’ and ‘urgh’ to express her extreme exasperation.

                Chloe only smiled wider. “The whole pouty thing’s not helping your case.”

                Beca threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s it! I’m leaving. I’m gone. Good-bye.” She moved as if she were going to exit the booth, dramatically turning her head away from her best friend. She had to bite her lip again to hold back her laughter as Chloe burst into a fit of giggles. Beca looked back at her, trying her absolute hardest to keep her face straight. “I’m serious. I’m going to leave. Just watch me.”

                But Chloe could do nothing but bury her face into her hands as she tried to suppress her merriment, and before Beca could realize it, her own face was wavering, and then smiling, and then laughing right along with the redhead. She slipped back into her seat and rolled her eyes. Noticing something, Beca’s jaw dropped a little. “Are you crying?” she asked incredulously.

                Chloe tried to answer, but the moment she opened her mouth, another burst of laughter came out, and clapped one hand over her red face as the other wiped away the tears.

                It took about a minute or so before Chloe was calm enough to talk. Beca raised an eyebrow. “It really wasn’t that funny, you know.”

                A hand cut her off from saying more. “One,” Chloe began, “you really underestimate your humor. Two, it’s just…I’m really happy today, you know? We’re seniors, it’s the summer, and we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us to spend together. Everything’s just fallen nicely into place, and I’m just really _happy_.”

                Beca could only stare in shock as Chloe echoed her exact thoughts.

                “Sorry, I know you already think I’m a giant sap, and this isn’t helping, but – “

                “No,” Beca cut in, “no, I get it.” She smiled gently. “I get it, I really do. Everything just feels _right_ today.”

                Wiping away the last of her tears, Chloe grinned at her friend. “That means a lot coming from you,” she murmured, and Beca tilted her head. She hadn’t realized it, but Chloe was right. She didn’t often say such sentimental things, and really, Chloe was the only person to see this side of her.

                “I meant every word.” Starting to feel slightly embarrassed, Beca ducked her head and turned her attention back to her ice cream, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel the happiness radiating from Chloe as if it were a tangible thing, and she knew, without looking up, that the redhead was beaming at her.

                They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Chloe piped up. “So! We’ve got a whole summer to plan together! Any suggestions?”

                Looking up from her ice cream, Beca ignored the sudden pain in her head – brain freeze, no doubt – and smirked. “I’ve got a few.”

…

                The summer passed by far too quickly for Beca’s liking. She and Chloe were joined at the hip practically every day, but it still wasn’t enough, not when Chloe was heading out of town in two weeks. They made the most of their time, though, going from ice cream parlors to amusement parks to concerts; they kept busy, and even on days where nothing was planned, the two hung out, listening to music and walking in the park and simply lying on one of their beds and talking. Sometimes Aubrey tagged along – while she and Beca often fought, Beca knew that Aubrey was Chloe’s second closest friend, and really, the blonde wasn’t so bad (not that Beca would ever admit that).        

                Mostly, though, it was just the two of them, and that was exactly how Beca liked it.

…

                “ _Tonight, I will love love you tonight,_

_“Give me everything tonight,_

_“For all we know, we might not get tomorrow – “_

                “ – ere.”

                The faint sounds of her mom’s voice trickled through the music, and Beca slipped her headphones around her neck, pressing the pause button on her mp3. It was a mix she’d been working on, between _Give Me Everything_ by Pitbull, and _Price Tag_ by Jessie J – so far, the songs were mashing pretty well, but she needed a third song, a bridge to hold them together. She’d put the unfinished mix on her mp3 to listen to in the car ride; maybe get some ideas. Nothing yet.         

                “We’re here,” her mom repeated.

                Beca glanced out the window at the uniform buildings making up the hospital complex. Brown brick formed the structure of each one, simple and clean. She grimaced. Hospitals weren’t really her thing, but she could suffer through them once a year for her annual check-up.

                Opening her door, she stepped out of the car, absentmindedly straightening her headphones about her neck. Her mom locked the car and led the way inside, staying quiet. Beca had made it clear a long time ago that talking with her parents wasn’t really a thing she did anymore. Even as they sat down in the waiting room in adjacent chairs, the true distance between them was miles.

                “Beca Mitchell.” One of the nurses had popped her head out from behind a doorway.

                Beca stood and made her way over, her mom close behind. The nurse led them down a sterile white hallway, with sterile white floors and sterile white walls. In a few of the rooms they passed, Beca could see a few young children as well as a few teenagers closer to her age. They all looked about as pleased as she felt to be there.

                Entering the small check-up room, Beca squinted her eyes and winced a bit, feeling another headache coming on. She’d been having quite a few this summer, and really, it was getting a bit bothersome. She chalked it up to spending most of her days running around with Chloe. Sometimes their fun excursions could be a bit exhausting.

                “Alright, Beca, take a seat, and Doctor Trevett will be with you shortly.”

                As the nurse left, silence filled the room. Beca perched upon the hospital bed in the middle, glancing sideways out the corner of her eye to see her mom fiddling with her phone. Unlike silences with Chloe, this one was awkward, and the tension was nearly palpable. Sighing, Beca slipped her headphones on again and waited for the doctor.

                Thankfully, the wait was a short one. Doctor Trevett entered the room, smiling as he shut the door behind him and checked his clipboard. “Hello again, Beca, how are you doing?”

                “Good,” she answered, taking her headphones off and setting them on the chair next to her mom.

                “Awesome, that’s great to hear. Well, this is just a standard routine, so let me run a few questions by you. Any injuries lately?”

                “No.”

                “Chest pain?”

                “Nope.”

                “Nausea, headaches?”

                Beca hesitated a moment, before reluctantly admitting, “I’ve had a few headaches lately, yeah.”

                Doctor Trevett peered over his glasses at her. “Are they frequent?”

                “A couple of times a week.”

                “How painful?”

                “Not too bad, just kind of annoying.”

                “You didn’t hit your head recently?”

                “Not that I know of.”

                “Well, that sounds like nothing, but I think we’ll run a few scans on you today, just in case. Sound good?”

                Beca shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

                The rest of the check-up was routine, with the standard vision and hearing tests, the reflex test, and taking the blood pressure. Once he was done, the doctor proclaimed Beca to be perfectly healthy. “Now, let’s go get that scan done, and then you’re free to go.”

                He led her down a hall to a dark room, and sat her down in the middle. “Just hold still for a moment.” The CT scan was over quickly enough, and once the forms were signed and the insurance was notified, everything was good to go.

                “We’ll have the results from the scan back to you in a couple of weeks,” Doctor Trevett called. Beca nodded in acknowledgment, and her mother thanked him for his time.

                The walk back to the car was as silent as the waiting room, until Beca’s mom commented, “I didn’t know you had any headaches.”

                Beca made a face. “They’re no big deal. Probably just dehydration or something.”

                “Yes, of course.” Her mom’s eyes flickered to her daughter. “You know, if you ever feel bad, I’m here for you.”

                Beca sighed deeply. “Look, Mom, thanks, but I’m good.”

                “Alright,” her mom mumbled awkwardly. “Just…let me know if there’s ever anything wrong.”

                “Will do.”

                As they got in the car and began the drive back home, Beca couldn’t help but feel slightly regretful and resentful at the same time. She didn’t hate her mom, not really. But when her parents divorced in middle school, they were so caught up in each other that neither paid any attention to Beca, and really, could she be blamed for being a bit angry that it was _Chloe’s_ parents that helped her out when she was injured, and that it was _Chloe’s_ parents that picked her up and gave her rides, when it should have been her own?

                Even though the divorce was long over, and her dad was long gone, the damage was done, and Beca just couldn’t seem to open up to her mom anymore. Another sigh escaped her as she switched on her mp3 and lost herself in her music.

…

                “Call me every day.”

                “Okay.”

                “I mean it, every day.”

                “ _Okay_.”

                “Promise me.”

                “I promise, now can you put me down?”

                Chloe’s face turned sheepish as she realized she was still hugging Beca, and that the smaller girl was still dangling in the air about an inch from the ground. She set her down quickly as passengers for various flights bustled around her in the airport.

                Beca made a big show of taking several deep breaths, as if Chloe had been suffocating her, which only earned her an eyeroll from the redhead. “Honestly, I am not that strong,” she said.

                “Yes, you are.”

                “No, you’re just tiny.”

                Beca narrowed her eyes and stuck her lower lip out. “Am not.”

                A raised eyebrow was Chloe’s response.

                “…Okay, maybe just a little,” Beca admitted, ignoring the giggles from her friend.  

                “In all seriousness, though, you _have_ to call me.”

                As Beca gave her trademark lopsided grin, she nodded. “I will, don’t worry.” Looking around for a moment to make sure that Chloe’s parents were occupied with their two sons, Beca lunged forward to wrap Chloe in a quick hug, whispering, “I’ll miss you” in her ear. She released the redhead almost as quickly as she’d hugged her, but she knew that Chloe understood the meaning behind the action, and understood that a hug from Beca meant far more than a hug from anyone else.

                Sniffling, Chloe fought back tears before initiating a hug of her own. “Oh my god, Becs, I’m going to miss you too! So much!”

                Beca stiffened under her touch, before playfully shoving Chloe off of her. “Okay, okay, the sappy’s stuff over, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. I’ll see you in three weeks, remember?”

                Swallowing, Chloe wiped away her tears and nodded fiercely. “Three weeks. And then we’ll enter school as seniors! I can’t wait!”

                “Yes, because school is always terribly fun,” Beca deadpanned, earning a light shove from Chloe.

                “Chloe, we’re leaving.” Chloe’s mom came over, gently placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Are you two done with your goodbyes?”

                Beca answered, “Yes, Mrs. Beale, we’re good. Take care!” She grinned at Chloe as the girl and her family walked away, heading towards security. Wow, she’d miss Chloe, just like she always did. She was already missing her.

                As Chloe passed through the metal detectors, she spun around for a moment to shout, “Don’t forget to call me!” Beca waved in response, face cracking into a giant smile. There was no way in hell she’d forget.

                When Chloe finally disappeared from sight, Beca’s smile dropped, and she sighed, glancing at the gate longingly.

                It was going to be a long three weeks.

…

                “ _Shit_ ,” Beca swore, grabbing her now soaked phone from the counter. She rushed for a towel and tried to dry it off, but when she attempted to turn it on, there was no response. “Shit shit shit.” She shook her phone in the air in a frantic try to dry it, but she had no such luck.

                Sighing, Beca gazed longingly at her now ruined phone. All it had taken was one knock from an elbow to tip over the glass of water, and of _course_ her phone was sitting on the counter right beside it, in prime position for a soak.

                Well, there wasn’t much she could do now. The phone was dead. And of _course_ it happened right as she was about to call Chloe. Setting the phone down, she left the kitchen and made her way around the living room couch to the home phone. It’d work for now, but Beca wasn’t always in the house, and when she was, she was working on mixes. If Chloe tried to call her, then she’d never notice. That was partially why the cell phone worked so well – it was on Beca at all times, and the headphones didn’t affect the vibrations.

                Dialing Chloe’s number, Beca leaned against the wall and looked wistfully at her cell phone across the room one more time.

                “ _Hello?_ ”

                “Hey Chloe.”

                _“Beca! Why are you using your home phone?_ ”

                “Long story short, I spilled a glass of water on my cell, and now the thing’s deader than my parents’ marriage.”

                A chuckle came from the other end. _“I’m sorry to hear that. But you can still use the home phone, right? Like you’re doing now?_ ”

                “When I’m home, yeah, but that’s only if I’m not working on my mixes, or if my mom’s around to tap me on the shoulder when I am. And I’m out a lot, too – “

                “ _You’re out a lot? Do you have some hidden social life without me?_ ”

                Beca snorted. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

                _“It’s a legitimate question._ ”

                “No, I don’t have a secret double life without you, Chlo. But I _do_ like to walk around the park and listen to my music.”

                _“Fair enough. I guess you’ll have to initiate every call then._ ”

                “I think that’ll work.”

                “ _Don’t you dare forget._ ”

                “When have I ever forgotten?”

                A pointed silence. “ _Three times last week, and eleven times last summer._ ”

                “You were counting?”

                “ _…That’s a possibility._ ”

                “Chloe, honestly, I won’t forget. I promise.”

                “ _Good. Now, how’re things going with that new track you were working on?_ ”

                Beca smiled as she let herself relax into their normal conversation. “Good, but I’m having a bit of trouble with the bass line, you know?”

…

                It had been a week since Chloe left on her vacation, so there were two more weeks left to go before Beca could see her friend’s smiling face, and it was already starting to wear her down. And, though she hated to admit it, she was moping.

                As she lay flopped on her bed, limbs sprawled wildly, she realized that she, Beca Mitchell, was _moping_. Groaning, she rolled off the bed and went to her computer. Her mixing software sat unopened as she chose instead to surf the Internet. She just wasn’t in the mood for any mixing today.

                The phone’s ring startled her out of her reverie, and she practically shot out of her chair. Was it Chloe? Was Chloe calling? Okay, yes, Beca had already called her today, but maybe she was calling again? As she scrambled at her door, she could hear her mom answer the phone.

                “Hello? Yes, this is Miss Mitchell….I see. Is there something wrong?....I understand. We’ll leave right away.”

                Beca stood at the top of the stairs that led to her room, face puzzled. That most _definitely_ wasn’t Chloe. “Mom, who was that?”

                “The doctor,” her mom answered, just as confused as Beca. “He said they got the results from the scan you got at your check-up, and they want us to come in.”

                “Is something wrong?” Beca asked, brows furrowed.

                “They didn’t say.”

…

                They were in the waiting room for scarcely a minute before Beca’s name was called, and the nurse ushered her in. They went to the usual check-up room, but Beca felt slightly on edge. Her shoulders were tensed as she sat down on the bed in the middle.

                Again, hardly any time passed before the doctor entered the room, clipboard dangling in his hand by his side. He pushed his glasses up as he turned to Beca.

                Doctor Trevett’s face was scarily serious, and Beca frowned. This wasn’t exactly what she’d been expecting. Nothing was wrong, though, right? Maybe it was a blood pressure thing. That was it, most likely. She never did eat healthy, so it was probably screwing with her system a bit.

                “I’m sorry to have called you in like this,” he began, looking Beca and her mother over.

                “Is something wrong?” her mom asked.

                He heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a great weight upon them. “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.

                Beca tilted her head. So something _was_ wrong. Yeah, okay, she was definitely laying off the Taco Bell for a while.

                “There’s no easy way to say this,” said the doctor. He paused, swallowing hard, before facing Beca and looking straight into her eyes. “I’m just going to come out and tell you. Beca, after we performed the CT scan on you at your check-up, we noticed an abnormality. Upon further inspection, we determined that you have a grade III oligodendroglioma.”

                Beca gave him a blank look. “A what now?”

                Doctor Trevett glanced at her sadly. “In more common terms, you have a tumor. Brain cancer.”

                She could hear her mom behind her gasping, but Beca just shook her head. “Okay, haha, the doctor made a funny. So what’s the real news?”

                “Beca,” he said softly. “Beca, I’m not joking.”

                “No, okay, stop. Don’t push it. Joke’s over, what’s the real news?”

                Doctor Trevett just watched her. “Beca, I’m being serious.”

                Snorting, Beca gave a harsh laugh. “Haha, okay, you scared me, it worked.” He gazed at her in response, and she began to shake. “Stop it, okay. Just stop. It’s not funny.”

                “Beca…”

                “I said it wasn’t fucking funny!” she snarled, leaping from her seat. “What the hell! What kind of sick joke is this? You called me in to play some twisted prank on me?” Her breaths started quickening, and her jaw tightened. “This is messed up.”

                Doctor Trevett simply stood there. “Beca, I’m so sorry.”

                “Shut the _fuck_ up!” she shouted, hands balling into fists.

                Her mom stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Beca, calm down, let’s hear what else he has to say, it may not be as bad as we think.” Her shaking voice betrayed her fear, and that shook Beca to her core. Her mom was not a person who got scared. Not ever. So she shouldn’t be scared now, because there was nothing to be scared _of_ , but she was still scared, and that frightened Beca.

                “He has nothing else to say because he’s _lying_. It’s _obvious_ ,” Beca retorted harshly.

                Doctor Trevett shook his head sadly. “I wish I were, Beca, I wish I were.”

                Beca’s mom questioned quietly, “How bad is it? Is it treatable?”

                He hesitated, and that was all it took to push Beca over the edge.

                “No. _No_. What the _hell_! Are you telling me I’m _dying_!” Her voice was bordering on hysterical.

                When his face wavered, Beca took a step back, her entire body shaking. “No. No, no, no, _no, NO._ ”

                “Beca – “

                “ _No_!” she screamed, rushing forward and shoving him out of the doorway. She took off down the halls, sprinting as fast she could, brown hair streaming behind her as her sneakers pounded the tile. She could vaguely hear voices shouting her name behind her, but they didn’t matter, nothing mattered, she just needed to get _out._

                Beca ran and ran, dodging through doors and halls and running past nurses and security guards and running through the lobby and out the front. She stumbled a bit as she transferred from the linoleum lobby floor to the outside concrete, but didn’t miss more than a beat and continued running and running and running, through the parking lot and the cars and into the bordering woods, just running, running, running, because she couldn’t hear the cries behind her anymore, and couldn’t hear those chasing her, and felt that she just had to keep running and running and running or they would catch up to her; her mom, the doctor, the nurses, the security, _cancer_ , it would all catch up to her and _there was no way in hell she was letting it catch up to her_.

                She didn’t know how long it had been before her legs finally gave out beneath her and she collapsed against one of the many oaks of the woods, feeling her lungs burn as she gulped down air. She sat there until her breaths grew even and her heartbeat grew calm, but when her body finally quieted, she found that her mind no longer had anything to concentrate on, and naturally, her first thought was –

                _Cancer._

                The whole thing was ridiculous. Preposterous. She couldn’t have cancer. It wasn’t possible. She was only seventeen, she had her whole _life_ ahead of her. She was going to go to college

                _with Chloe_

and get a job as a music producer

                _with Chloe_

and maybe get married some day and have kids

                _with Chloe_

                and _how the fuck could she do that if she had cancer_!

                How could she live her life when she was dying?

                But she wasn’t dying, not really, because she felt fine, and the entire thing was absurd. It couldn’t be true, it just _couldn’t_ be. This sort of thing didn’t happen to her. It happened to other people, but it didn’t happen to her, it _couldn’t_ happen to her.

                As Beca pressed her back into the bark of the tree, she bit her lip and raised a hand to cover her mouth as a sob worked its way out of her chest. Rain trickled down her face (although she was almost certain it hadn’t been raining a second ago) and she closed her eyes, fighting and failing to keep her sobs down.

                She _couldn’t_ have cancer, she just _couldn’t_.

                The midday sun shone bright overhead, but while it cast its dappled light over much of the woods, Beca sat only in the shade.


	3. That Pain and Fright Are Inside Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for the response, and especially to those who gave me kudos!
> 
> Going a fair bit into Chloe’s POV this chapter – this will happen many times in the fic, but the majority of the fic will be in Beca’s POV.
> 
> Sorry for the late update! The chapter went on a bit longer than I’d anticipated, but it’s finally done and out. As for future updates, I don’t have a set schedule, but I’ll try my best to get out at least one a week. It’s mostly just dependent on school.
> 
> Not much else to say. Enjoy!

_**And Really, It’s No Surprise** _

__

_Chapter Two:_

_That Pain and Fright Are Inside Wars_

The whole cell phone thing wouldn’t be that much of an issue if Beca could manage to grasp the concept of modern technology; more specifically, Skype. Chloe sighed to herself as she opened the program on her own computer, ready to call Aubrey – her one friend that did understand how simple the program was.

                Honestly, Beca was a little ridiculous. She insisted that her computer already had too much software on it, with all of her fancy mixing programs, but it wasn’t as if Skype needed a terrible amount of power. Still, there was no arguing with Beca, and using the phone worked well enough. It wasn’t as if Chloe could give her true reason.

_(Beca, I really just want to be able to see your face on a regular basis because you make everything brighter.)_

                Yeah, no, that wasn’t happening. Chloe maybe sort of had a giant crush on Beca, but she was almost positive that Beca didn’t reciprocate the feelings. The smaller girl always froze at Chloe’s touch, and while she was certainly improving, she’d made no move on Chloe in return. Plus, Chloe dropped some pretty enormous hints on a regular basis (because really, Beca couldn’t honestly think that seductively whispering to her in an ice cream parlor was just _teasing_ ). But at least Beca didn’t have a problem with it, so that was good.

                Eventually, Chloe would spill the truth. Just not yet. For now, though, it’d remain her nice little secret, safe between her and Aubrey.

                Aubrey knew, but Chloe hadn’t exactly told her. The blonde just sort of mentioned it one day, to Chloe’s great surprise. Upon confrontation, Aubrey stated that Chloe’s feelings for Beca were “as obvious as Kelly Clarkson’s Grammy win for her _Breakaway_ album in ‘06”.

                …She might have been partially right, but that didn’t stop Chloe from pouting a bit. She was _not_ obvious. She was just subtly conspicuous.

                Pulling up the call screen for Skype, Chloe hit the ‘Talk’ button and waited for Aubrey to respond. They’d both agreed to call each other at 9:00 each night, just as Chloe and Beca had agreed to noon. (Unfortunately, Beca’s call for the day had passed, and _god_ did Chloe just want to hear her voice again and see that smirking face and _okay_ , she had it really bad.)

                “ _Thinking about Beca again?_ ” Aubrey’s voice rang through the computer as a grainy version of the blonde’s raised eyebrow and knowing smirk snapped Chloe from her reverie.

                Chloe pouted. “How do you always know that?”

                “ _One_ ,” Aubrey began, “ _that’s your ‘I’m-pining-for-Beca’ face._ ”

                “That’s not a thing!” Chloe protested, knowing full well that yeah, it was probably a thing.

                “ _And two_ ,” Aubrey continued, “ _you’re_ always _thinking about Beca._ ”

                ...That too was a thing.

                Chloe opened and closed her mouth in a fairly accurate representation of oceanic sea life, but finally shut her jaw and glared. “I am _not_ that obvious.”

                “ _You are_ so _that obvious, Chloe. If you were a guy, this wouldn’t even be an argument._ ”

                Flushing, Chloe scrunched her face up. “One, ew. Two… _ew._ ”

                “ _Please. Don’t even act surprised. You know it’s true._ ”

                “Again. _Ew_.” Shaking her head at her friend, Chloe tried to steer the topic away from boys and back to girls. Or girl. “Bree, in all seriousness, though, what do I do?”

                Aubrey’s eyebrows raised in astonishment, and Chloe knew precisely why. She’d never actually been willing to talk to Aubrey about her crush on Beca; but it was about time she came to terms with it, and it was about time that she make a move.

                “ _What’s there_ to _do, besides let her know how you feel?_ ”

                Chloe huffed. “It’s not as simple as that. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Bree. We’ve been together since seventh grade, and it’s not easy for Beca to trust people. Even if I want more, I still love what the two of us currently have. And I guess I’m just worried that if Beca doesn’t like me back, it’ll ruin all of that.”

                “ _Those are legitimate concerns, but if you let fear rule you, you’ll never get anywhere. Just tell her._ ”

                “It’s not that _simple_. How would you feel if I told you that I was in love with you?”

                Aubrey’s eyes widened. “ _Whoa, wait,_ love _?! Are you in_ love _with Beca?! I knew you had it bad, but_ damn. _I didn’t know you had it_ this _bad._ ”

                Backpedaling, Chloe swung her arms in front of her, furiously waving away the thought. “No, no, I mean, I like her, in a non-platonic friend way, that’s it, not _love_ , I mean, urgh.” She dropped her head in her hands. “I don’t even know what I mean,” she said, voice muffled.

                “ _You better figure that out before the summer’s over, Chlo, because you don’t have forever. Beca could be snatched away at any moment. As for if you told me you were in love with me, I’d probably be a little uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t let it get in the way of our friendship, and if Beca doesn’t feel the same, I doubt she’d let it either._ ”

                Completely ignoring the second half of Aubrey’s advice, Chloe’s head shot up with panicked eyes, mind honing in on the “snatched away at any moment” portion. “You don’t think Beca likes someone else, do you? I mean, she’s never said anything, but she’s also really good at hiding stuff, and _oh my god Beca likes someone else and that’s why she’s never said anything and_ – “

                “Breathe, _Chloe,_ breathe,” Aubrey instructed through the computer screen. “ _Beca doesn’t like anyone else. If she did, she’d tell you. You_ know _she’d tell you. You two share everything with each other except the obvious romantic love thing going on. And in that case, you share each other’s fears._ ”

                “But Bree, I don’t even know if she _likes_ girls!” Chloe protested as her breathing slowed to a normal rate once more.

                Aubrey snorted. “ _Does Beca know that_ you _like girls?_ ”

                A pause as Chloe pondered the comment. Her lips twisted as she realized that Aubrey had a point. “Um…no, I don’t think so.”

                “ _Chloe. Chloe, I love you, but you can be really dense sometimes. If anything, Beca’s the one who should be apprehensive, because you’ve actually had boyfriends in the past. Beca’s never dated. Out of the two of you, Beca would be more nervous, because you’ve acted like a perfectly straight girl this entire time._ ”

                “Oh.” Chloe leaned back in her chair, dumbstruck by the realization. “Oh.”

                “ _Yes, ‘oh’. Now get your shit together and start planning a way to ask her out._ ”

                “But Bree – “

                “ _No. No ‘buts’. Don’t even try to back out of this. You can do this. Plus, you’ve got me on your side. I guarantee I’ll make everything perfect for you two. And I guarantee that Beca will be swept off her feet._ ” Aubrey smiled, and Chloe felt her heart warm. She couldn’t ask for a better friend. (Not that Beca wasn’t a good friend, but Chloe didn’t really want to be a friend to Beca anymore, not when they could be so much more.)

                “Okay Bree, impress me.”

                Aubrey smirked, and Chloe wondered slightly if perhaps this hadn’t been the best of ideas.

…

                Night had fallen a while ago, but Beca hadn’t moved. Her eyes simply stared blankly in front of her, as they had been for the past several hours.

                The rustle of nearby leaves broke through her mindless state, and she snapped back into reality. Stretching limbs that had grown sore from being in the same position for so long, Beca placed a hand on the tree behind her and attempted to stand.

                She’d clearly underestimated the state her muscles were in, because she collapsed a moment later, knees weak and shaking. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she tried again, succeeding with the support of the tree. Leaning against the bark, Beca swallowed thickly, fighting sobs from worming their way up through her throat once more. She’d had enough crying for one day; the dried tracks down her face were a clear indication.

                Beca knew she couldn’t spend the night out here, despite the peaceful tranquility of the woods. None of the trees wore white coats, and none of the squirrels gave her diagnoses that spelled the end of her world, but none of them could tell her the truth.

                Absentmindedly, she reached her hand into her pocket for her cell phone, forgetting for the umpteenth time that it was broken and at home. She’d been reaching into her pocket a lot these past few hours, and she knew the exact reason why.

                Or, rather, who the exact reason was.

                Beca needed someone to talk to. She needed someone that she could spill all of her fears to, that she could cry with, that could comfort her no matter the distance. If her phone had been on her, she would have called Chloe a long time ago.

                But as she stood there, the night’s darkness pressing in on her, she wondered if, perhaps, it had been a blessing that she didn’t have her phone. Maybe it was a good thing. She was going through enough pain as it was – what kind of friend would unload that pain onto someone else?

                Her eyes widened with the realization. How _selfish_ would it have been to call Chloe, to go crying to Chloe? Because then Chloe would be just as devastated, and Beca didn’t even _know_ if she was going to die, right?

                God, she was so stupid. It was a miracle she didn’t have her phone. There was no need to panic Chloe needlessly, none at all, because it wasn’t as if Beca knew all of the details.  

                A small voice inside her whispered that all of the signs with the doctor pointed to her dying, that beating cancer wouldn’t be such a big deal in the first place if it wasn’t super hard to do, and that she’d never heard of anyone recovering from a brain tumor.

                She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that she didn’t know the full truth yet, that clearly it couldn’t be happening.

                But the small part of her that had accepted the truth instructed her not to tell Chloe, not to place that burden upon her. How cruel would it be to tell Chloe that her best friend was dying? Beca switched the roles in her mind, and wondered how she would react if Chloe was dying instead.

                A pang jolted through her heart, and even though Beca knew it wasn’t true, the mere thought took her breath away. A life without Chloe? It would be no life at all. Another sob tried to break free, and Beca clamped a hand over her mouth, tears starting to flow once more just at the _thought_ of losing Chloe and -

                _No._ Beca would _not_ tell Chloe, not under any circumstances.

                There was no way in hell she was putting Chloe through that kind of pain.

…

                It was about an hour before Beca stumbled from the woods and into the hospital parking lot once more. Her clothes were torn from running through branches, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was a tangled mess. Walking into the hospital, she simply sat down on one of the benches in the main lobby.

                The secretary at the front desk frantically stood up, calling others to aid her.

                A flurry of doctors and nurses passed in front of her, checking her health and physical state, and eventually her mom burst through the doors, relief evident as she began to scold Beca, telling her of the numerous search teams that had been sent out, and of how she’d been so _worried_.

                Beca didn’t reply.

                Halfway through the walk back to the hospital, her thoughts became too much, and so Beca simply switched them off.

                She watched her mom and let herself be led back to the car and placed into the backseat, seatbelt buckled over her.

                As the engine roared to life and her mom continued to fill the silence with chatter that her daughter cared little to hear, Beca raised her eyes and glanced in the rearview mirror.

                Dead eyes stared back at her.

…

                The door slammed shut behind her mom, but Beca paid it no mind. She went straight to her room and fell into her bed, still desperately blocking out any more thoughts of the news she’d heard.

                Beca’s mom stood in the doorway helplessly. “Do you want to call Chloe?” she offered.

                Beca rolled over, her back now facing her mom. “No,” she said, her voice as dead as her eyes.

                She could practically hear her mother struggling to say something, anything, but there was nothing to say in this situation. Apparently they both knew that, because her mom left without another word, shutting the door to Beca’s room behind her.

                As Beca lay on her side, she curled herself into the smallest human ball possible, and when she was absolutely positive that no one could hear or see her, she released her sobs into the stillness of her bedroom, and time froze gently in place as her world became blurry vision and muffled cries.

…

                She was shaken gently awake early the next morning. Her mother looked down at her with soft eyes, and Beca groaned, forgetting briefly the events of yesterday.

                Her blissful moment was just that – one moment - and suddenly the memories flooded in, leaving her gasping and shaking. Her mom sat on the bed next to her and collected her daughter in her arms, clutching her tightly to her chest.

                For the first time in years, Beca didn’t protest. She let her mom hold her, body limp in shock as her mind processed the events of yesterday, with one central word on repeat.

                _Cancer_.

                A few minutes passed, and Beca’s mom pulled away. “Beca,” she began gently, “we have to go to the hospital again.” When Beca stiffened at the word, her mom shushed her and held her tighter, rubbing circles on her daughter’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. They won’t do anything today. They just want to let us know the full situation. That’s all.”

                Beca reluctantly sat up, gulping in nervousness. Her eyes betrayed her fears, desperately pleading her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay, like she used to when she and Beca’s dad were fighting.

                Her mom didn’t say that this time. Instead, she bit her lip, and said, “I don’t know what he’ll say, Beca. I don’t know what will happen. But please, don’t ever lose hope.”

                Beca shuddered at her mom’s words, fighting the urge to glare angrily at her. How dare she be so hypocritical? How dare she tell Beca not to lose hope? Beca’s unvoiced retort echoed in her mind:

                _How can I keep hope when you’ve already lost it?_

…

                Once again, Beca was in that dreaded hospital room. She was already coming to loathe the place, curling her lip at every bleached tile and gloved hand. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the paper on the bed crackling beneath her.

                Apparently cancer patients – she mentally winced at the word – had priority, because Doctor Trevett entered the room almost instantly, followed by a woman Beca was unfamiliar with.

                Doctor Trevett didn’t waste any time. “Beca, thank you so much for being here,” he said, “and I’m so sorry about yesterday. I know this is a lot of news to take in, and your reaction was more than understandable. I hope you can forgive me for breaking the news to you?”

                Did he honestly think she was angry at him? Resisting the urge to snort, Beca shook her head. “Nothing to forgive,” she mumbled, not quite ready to meet his eyes. She was angry at the world, angry at whoever the hell had decided that she’d wind up with cancer, but she wasn’t angry at the doctor.

                She could see him smile slightly, though sadness laced the expression. “Thank you,” he said, voice sincere. “This isn’t going to be easy. None of this will. But Beca, we need to give you the facts, and what we plan to do from here on in. Do you understand?”

                Beca nodded.

                “Good.” He swept his hand out towards the woman beside him, dressed in a similar white coat. A stethoscope lay hidden under curls of blonde, and her eyes were far too bright considering the situation. (Not that she seemed _happy_ – they were just too bright, a weird amber color.) “This,” Doctor Trevett introduced, “is Doctor Krebs. She’s an oncologist here – she specializes in the treatment and identification of cancer. It’s actually thanks to her that we caught your brain tumor when we did.” Beca flinched at the words ‘brain tumor’, but he continued on. “If she hadn’t caught it now, you’d be in a much worse situation.”

                Beca lifted her head, voice monotone as she asked, “And how bad is the situation now?”

                Doctor Krebs stepped forward. Her voice was clear as she spoke, and Beca knew immediately that if she had to place her life in someone’s hands, this woman would be the surest bet to keep it safe. “The news isn’t good,” Doctor Krebs said bluntly. “Brain tumors are tricky, and yours is especially so. There are four grades of brain tumors. Grades 1 and 2 refer to slower-growing tumors. These are easier to extract, and have a smaller chance of returning. Grades 3 and 4 are faster-growing. They come on more suddenly, are harder to treat, and have a large chance of recurring in the future.

                “You have a grade 3 oligodendroglioma. This means it’s fast-growing, hence why you’ve only recently begun to feel headaches. We do not yet know the full extent of its growth, or its precise position, so we’ll be proceeding with an MRI scan and a second CT scan today, to better scope out the tumor. Hopefully, it won’t be by any nerve clusters – this will make surgical removal easier. Not _easy_ , but easier.

                “As time passes, your symptoms will progress. It’s very likely that you’ll begin to experience seizures soon. We’ll give you instructions on what to do in such a situation, and a card to wear on your person at all times – it will explain your illness to a stranger if you are to have a seizure in a public area without a knowledgeable figure nearby.

                “Treatment will begin soon as well. We’ll give you a couple of days to rest while we go over the results of your scans, but then treatment will have to begin. The sooner we start, the better.

                “Are there any questions?” Doctor Krebs finished at last, and Beca swallowed thickly, scared to ask the one thought that had been plaguing her since the beginning of this entire ordeal.

                She quietly asked, “Am I going to die?”

                Doctor Krebs stared at her for a moment, eyes betraying no emotion. “Not with certainty,” she finally conceded. “You are young, which will work in your favor. However, I am not here to mince words and spare your feelings. Statistically, considering your condition, you have around a 30-38% chance of living beyond five years. This is not factoring in your age. If I were to be generous, you have a 40% chance of surviving this. If you can make it through these next six months, your chance will increase.”

                Tears started spilling from Beca’s eyes before she could stop them. “So,” she choked out, “I could die at any time in the next six months?” She held a hand to her mouth as the tears streamed out and a whimper escaped her throat.

                Doctor Krebs’ voice wasn’t unkind when she whispered, “Yes. That is a possibility.”

                As Beca’s mom stood up to hold her daughter, rubbing her back as Beca sobbed, only one face lingered in Beca’s mind, white teeth smiling and blue eyes crinkling in laughter; Beca resolved right then and there to never mar that face with the tears she currently spilled.

…

                Chloe paced around her family’s cabin, worry etched clearly on her features. Her parents and brothers were still out at the lake, but Chloe hadn’t wanted to leave when noon came and went, thinking that Beca was just running a little late. She’d join the others once Beca had called.

                But Beca hadn’t called. It was close to five o’clock in the evening and Beca still hadn’t called.

                _Maybe she had something going on today that she forgot to tell me about_ , Chloe reasoned. _Or maybe she just forgot again. I should call her._

                As she reached for the phone, she hesitated, just as she had been for the past couple of hours. Who was to say Beca would even pick up? That was the whole reason they’d agreed on Beca calling Chloe in the first place.

                Was Beca mad at her? Was that it? Did Chloe do something wrong? She racked her brain, trying to come up with some sort of reason for Beca not to call, but nothing seemed right.

                Exasperated, she held up her phone and dialed Beca’s number at last. Because really, Beca probably just forgot, just like she’d done in the past. And boy, did Chloe have some choice words for her today if that was the case.

                She could hear the line ringing as she stood in the middle of the cabin, fingers drumming nervously against her leg. Just as she was about to give up hope that anyone was home, she heard a click, and then Beca’s mom. “ _Hello?_ ”

                “Hi!” Chloe said, relief evident. If Beca’s mom was home, then she could at _least_ find out some information.

                “ _Oh. Ah, Chloe, hello._ ”

                For some reason, the response sounded reluctant, but Chloe couldn’t fathom why. She knew Beca’s mom loved having her around. “Hi Ms. Mitchell. I was just calling because Beca promised to call at noon every day, and I guess she forgot again. Is she at home?”

                A pause, and then, “ _Um, I’m not sure. Let me go check._ ”

                Chloe waited as she heard footsteps up some stairs, and then a door opening. A crackling noise sounded, as if the phone’s speaker had been covered up, and then muffled voices. Chloe frowned. Did that mean Beca _was_ home? If so, why did Beca’s mom feel the need to cover the phone?

                Another minute passed, and then Beca’s mom spoke once more. “ _I’m sorry, Beca’s not home right now._ ”

                Chloe furrowed her brows, confusion and hurt reflecting in her eyes. It had sure _sounded_ like Beca was home. “Ms. Mitchell, is something – “

                “ _I’m sorry Chloe, I have to go finish some things up for work. I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to your parents for me._ ”

                The line went dead, and a dumbfounded Chloe stared at the phone in her hand.

                …What? What was that? Was something going on? Did Beca not _want_ to talk to her?

                Visibly upset, Chloe sat down hard on the couch in the main room, thoughts swirling through her mind.

…

                When the phone rang, Beca clutched her comforter closer, sensing, somehow, exactly who the caller was. They’d arrived home a little over an hour ago, and Beca, exhausted already from the day’s events, had fallen straight into her bed, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she could die any day. Just like that.

                She heard her mom pick up, and then an unsteady, “Oh. Ah, Chloe, hello.”

                Beca didn’t move from her spot, just continued to stare at the wall of her bedroom. She would not tell Chloe. She would not tell Chloe. She would not tell Chloe.

                “Um, I’m not sure. Let me go check.” Beca could hear her mom climb the stairs and push her door open. “Beca, it’s Chloe,” she said softly, covering the phone with her hand.

                “I know,” Beca said without turning.

                “Do you want to talk to her?” She could picture the helpless expression on her mom’s face, but she’d already resolved not to talk to Chloe, and she intended to keep her resolve. Chloe was to be spared the pain, and no matter how much pain that caused Beca, as long as Chloe was safe from it, it didn’t matter.

                “No, I don’t,” Beca answered, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to hold back the “I’m lying”s and the “I need to talk to Chloe”s.

                “Are you sure?” her mom asked.

                “Never been more sure in my life.” Beca knew her quivering voice betrayed just how much of a lie that statement was, but her mom let it go.

                “I’m sorry, Beca’s not home right now,” her mom answered, and followed it quickly with, “I’m sorry Chloe, I have to go finish some things up for work. I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to your parents for me.”

                Beca called, “Thank you,” as her mom hung up the phone, and ignored the response as she wrapped her comforter more tightly around her, her bed officially her refuge.

…

                Chloe was lost in thought for entirely different reasons than the night before as she logged on to Skype and initiated a call to Aubrey. Apparently, her frown and scrunched forehead made this evident to the blonde as well.

                “ _Are you okay?_ ” Aubrey asked, tilting her head. “ _Is something wrong?_ ”

                Heaving a sigh, Chloe rested her chin in her palm. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

                “ _Is it Beca?_ ”

                “Yeah,” Chloe said, “or rather it’s, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

                “ _Did something happen?_ ” If Chloe hadn’t been so upset, she would have smiled at the genuine worry in her friend’s voice.

                “Yes. No. That’s just it, it’s what _didn’t_ happen that’s got me down.”

                “ _Tell me everything._ ”

                “It’s…well, Beca didn’t call me today.”

                “ _But she forgets a lot, right?_ ”

                Chloe shook her head. “I mean, yes, she sometimes does, but this was different. I called her house later today, and her mom picked up. And she said Beca wasn’t home, but the thing is, it sounded at one point like Ms. Mitchell was actually talking with Beca. Which means that Beca didn’t _want_ to talk to me.”

                Even through the low resolution of the video chat, Aubrey’s perplexed expression was clear. “ _That doesn’t sound right, not at all. Beca never hesitates to talk to you. Ever._ ”

                “Do you think she’s mad at me?” Chloe asked timidly.

                Aubrey shook her head quickly. “ _No. You haven’t done anything wrong, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two mad at each other._ ”

                “So what is it, then?” Chloe murmured, feeling lost and helpless. This had never happened before, not once in her and Beca’s entire friendship.

                Aubrey grimaced. “ _I don’t know_ ,” she answered truthfully. “ _Just…I bet it’s nothing. You’ll see. Try calling again tomorrow. I’m sure it didn’t mean anything._ ”

                “Yeah.” Chloe sighed. “I really hope you’re right.”

…

                It was around noon when Chloe called again, determined to get to the truth of the matter. The phone rang and rang, until the voicemail message cut it off. Lips twisting in an expression of annoyance, Chloe quickly hit ‘end’, before hitting ‘talk’ once again. Once again, the phone rang and rang until it went to voicemail.

                This time, Chloe left a message. “Hey, it’s Chloe, and I just wanted to know if everything’s okay. I know you probably forgot, Beca, but anyway, just give me a call.”

                She tried one more time before falling onto the cabin’s couch with a groan. She wasn’t being too clingy or anything, right? She just wanted to know that everything was okay. That wasn’t a crime. Beca _was_ her best friend, after all.

                “It’s only been a day, Chlo,” a deep voice rumbled.

                Pouting, Chloe looked up from the couch at the man who’d spoken – he towered above her, eyes reassuring. Though his build was slight, muscles were still evident in his arms, and his hair was just as red as his sister’s. “I know, Adam,” Chloe replied, “I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

                “Scoot,” he instructed, waving his hands. Chloe reluctantly sat up and moved over so that he had room to sit. Once he was situated, he turned to face Chloe fully, and she relaxed almost instantly. Adam was the oldest of the three Beale children, and he’d always had a calming presence. “Chlo,” he began, “you need to stop. Fretting over this won’t get you anywhere.”

                Chloe made a face. “I _know_ that. But I can’t _help_ it. What if something’s happened?”

                Adam questioned, “You talked to her mom last night, right?”

                She nodded.

                “And did she _say_ that anything had happened?”

                She shook her head.

                “Did she _sound_ like something had happened?”

                Chloe hesitated. “Well, not exactly. She sounded a little weird, though.”

                He put an arm on her shoulder. “Chlo. I know how you feel about Beca, we all do, but she can be pretty forgetful. There’s probably nothing going on, and worrying yourself sick while we’re on vacation is silly. You’re supposed to be outside with us at the lake, swimming and canoeing and the like. Not cooped up in here calling Beca’s house when there’s clearly no one home.”

                Chloe took a deep breath, leaning into her brother. “But I just want to know that everything’s okay.”

                “How about this: come outside and hang out with us for two hours. _Then_ , you can come inside and try calling again. Please?” Adam squeezed reassuringly.

                “Okay,” she agreed, knowing it would be a long two hours.

…

                She’d really tried to have fun, she did, but all she could think about was Beca, and Adam finally told her to just go back inside after an hour and a half. Chloe agreed readily, and now she once more stood in the empty cabin as her parents and brothers had fun outside. She knew they were all a little worried about her, but they knew of her feelings (well, Bryce, her second oldest brother, didn’t, because he would give it away the moment Beca came to visit, but he still understood how much she cared for Beca), and they knew that she wouldn’t let it go until she had something concrete.

                Gripping the phone in her hands again, Chloe breathed in, nervous as she dialed the familiar number. She raised it to her ear, holding her breath as the dial tone finished and she could hear the ringing on the other side.

                When the click that signaled the call had been picked up sounded, Chloe almost dropped the phone in relief. “Hello? Beca?”

                “ _Chloe?_ ” She almost winced in disappointment at hearing Beca’s mom answer.

                “Hi Ms. Mitchell. Is Beca there? She didn’t call yesterday, and she hasn’t called today either. I just wanted to see if everything was okay.” She congratulated herself on keeping her tone steady and casual.

                “ _I’m sorry, Chloe, I’m afraid that’s my fault._ ” Confusion contorted Chloe’s features. “ _Beca has been shirking on her chores lately, and I’m afraid taking away her phone privileges was the only fitting punishment I could think of. I’m terribly sorry that you have to be punished as well._ ”

                “Oh, no, um, that’s okay,” Chloe said hastily, though her mouth was pulled down in a frown. Ms. Mitchell had never taken away Beca’s phone privileges before, ever – if she wanted to punish the girl, she simply stopped her flow of allowance, or took away her mp3 for a day. Never before had Beca not been allowed to talk to Chloe. “How long will it last?”

                There was a slight hesitation on the other end that didn’t go unnoticed. “ _Well, uh, I’d only intended it to be a day, but, you see, we’re going on a camping trip until school starts. It was meant to be a surprise. I was still going to allow Beca to call you, but she doesn’t have a new cell phone, so I’m afraid it won’t be possible._ ”

                “When are you leaving?” Chloe knew that the confusion in her voice was more than evident in the question. Beca had never liked camping, so this was hardly a pleasant surprise for the girl. And as far as Chloe knew, Beca’s mom had never shown an interest in camping either. “And, uh, why the sudden trip?”

                “ _We’re leaving today. Oh, and, uh, it’s a family bonding thing. I, uh, read about it online, and about how it’s supposed to bring families closer together, and I just felt like Beca and I need to talk more. It’s been rough, as, um, as you know, and I just thought it might help._ ”

                For some reason, Chloe couldn’t help but feel as if the woman was hemming and hawing her way through Chloe’s questions. “Okaaay,” Chloe said, not completely convinced. She supposed it made sense, but something about it didn’t sit right with her. “Are you sure I can’t talk to Beca before she leaves?”

                “ _No, I’m sorry, I have to see through with this punishment. Thank you for understanding._ ”

                “Um, no problem,” Chloe replied, although she was quite certain she didn’t understand at all.

                “ _We’ll talk to you in a few weeks. Have fun during the rest of your vacation!_ ”

                “Er, you too, have fun on – “ The line went dead, and Chloe stared incredulously at the phone in her hand. What just happened?

…

                Beca raised her head as her mom entered her room, having heard the majority of the phone call with Chloe. “Are you sure that’s what you wanted?” her mom asked, and Beca nodded. She’d planned it out, the entire excuse.

                “Yes. I can’t…I can’t talk to Chloe. Not right now. I don’t want to tell her yet.”

                “You can’t avoid this forever,” her mom pointed out.

                “Watch me.”

                “Beca…”

                “No, okay, no. Don’t ‘Beca’ me,” she said suddenly, glaring at her mom. “I’ve got a hell of a lot on my plate right now, and I’m trying to sort through everything on my own. I do _not_ need your help, and more importantly, I do _not_ need your condescension. Just let me handle this on my own, okay?” Tears started springing to her eyes, but she angrily wiped them away. “Leave. Leave me alone.”

                Beca’s mom slumped her shoulders and did as her daughter asked.

                While Beca wanted so much to burst into tears, she bit her lip. There had been far too much crying lately.

…

                The days passed agonizingly slow. Beca rarely left her bed except for doctor’s appointments. Doctor Krebs took over and began treatment, explaining everything in terms that flew right over Beca’s head. She didn’t care much anyway.

                The picture frame on her nightstand, of her and Chloe smiling and laughing – it was the only steady point in the midst of everything crumbling down around her.

                But Beca could not bring herself to call Chloe, because no matter how much she longed to hear the redhead’s voice, all she could think of was the tears that would inevitably come, and she refused to make Chloe cry. Not now, not ever.

                She wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone.

…

                The days passed agonizingly slow. Chloe tried to have fun with her family, but her mind was always preoccupied with thoughts of Beca. Something didn’t sit right with her, and the sinking feeling never went away, even as she giggled at Adam’s jokes or swatted Bryce for his antics.

                The background on her phone, of her and Beca smiling and laughing – it was the only bright point through the vacation, a reminder that she would see her friend once school started.

                She’d tried to call Beca’s house again, but there was no answer, and eventually Chloe stopped, finally believing that they truly had gone on a camping trip. That didn’t stop her from venting her fears to Aubrey each night, but as the clock ticked and she counted the days down ‘til school, her worry never abated.

                She just _needed_ to see Beca, or this agony eating away at her would never stop.

…

                The school was just as familiar as always. Red brick, three floors, a ragged flag flapping in the wind. Old backpack slung across one shoulder, sneakers tied, and information card hung around her neck and under her shirt, Beca stood in front of the doors. Her heart pounded, her head ached, and she felt like she was about to heave, but ultimately, it had been her decision to continue attending school. She couldn’t just drop off the face of the planet – it was too strange, too suspicious. No, she had to act natural, couldn’t let anyone know what had happened.

                For the first time in years, Beca entered school without a smile on her face. Her expression was steely, and her walls were up; and not even a certain redhead could bring them down this time.


	4. That Fear Breeds Hate and Hate Breeds Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Chapter. Was. Really. Frustrating.
> 
> So, first off, I want to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I'd hoped to have it out by Monday, and I've been working on it this whole time, but argh. This chapter refused to cooperate. Nothing I wrote seemed up to par, there were too many breaks – it just didn't flow. I hope I've managed to fix it up enough so that it works now, but if there are any mistakes, or anything that sounds weird, let me know.
> 
> Also, in case I have more instances of being late, just be sure to know that I will not, under any circumstances, leave this fic unfinished. Even if I take a while to get a chapter out, it will come out, and this fic will be finished.
> 
> Apart from rewriting, I also spent my time researching like crazy. Now that I've mapped out the exact cranial position of Beca's tumor and determined the specifics of her treatment, I think I'm good. We'll see. I might make a little page of references to stuff, such as details on the tumor that wouldn't really fit in the story, and more minor things, like Beca's and Chloe's school schedules.
> 
> Writing the school schedule's a little bit weird for me, because I'm used to a different school schedule than most. For Beca's school, I'm making it eight periods of 45 minutes, with about 45 minutes for lunch. I think that sounds reasonable, right?
> 
> I'm not going into too much detail on how the radiation therapy and chemotherapy will be performed this chapter – that will come in when Beca attends her first session.
> 
> Again, thank you so much to those who have left kudos, and to those who are simply reading and enjoying the piece! I hope you continue to do so!
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry about the format change. I'm not used to AO3, and it's screwing with something or another, and I have no idea how to fix it.)

 

_**And Really, It's No Surprise**_

_Chapter Three:_

_That Fear Breeds Hate and Hate Breeds Fear_

Her first seizure was almost one week to the day from the revelation of her situation. It wasn't quite like Beca had expected, but that didn't change how frightened she was.

It was in the middle of the night. For some reason, Beca had always pictured having seizures in public places, where someone was always there to help. It had never occurred to her that they could come at any time, and at any place.

The clock read three fifteen when she jolted awake. There were no spasms – she later discovered that not all seizures involved convulsions – but there was loss of control. Her hands began to twitch, and she felt her face contort on its own accord. Her arms and legs shook, and for thirty seconds of sheer terror, Beca couldn't control her body. She couldn't control her fingers, erratically waving, or her cheek, twitching upwards in an inconsistent rhythm.

It was short, though it felt far longer.

When control returned, Beca let out a shaky breath, holding her hands up and staring intently, not believing that her body could just betray her like that.

They discussed it at her appointment that day, and it took a while for Beca to realize that it hadn't been just a dream; that it had been real. The nightmare was real, and this was just the start.

She'd had no more seizures since then, but she had no doubt that the first one was not her last.

Standing in front of her school once more was almost as terrifying as the seizure. Almost, but not quite.

Students pushed past her as she stood before the glass doors. Nervous freshman hurried inside, eager to find their classes before the bell rang. Seniors sidled in casually, experience made obvious by their ease in the environment. Practiced juniors, and even sophomores, made their way slowly to classrooms they knew were there.

Beca finally moved, joining the herd as she picked up her schedule near the front entrance. She couldn't help the wary glances left and right, looking for a familiar head of red hair, but it was for a far different reason than in previous years.

She just couldn't imagine facing Chloe, cutting things off. How was she supposed to shut Chloe out of her life? The girl had been there for _years_ , and now Beca was planning to simply make it  _stop_. It wouldn't be that easy, though, and she knew it.

Her first class was AP Government, and she slunk into the classroom, head low and eyes downcast. Thankfully, she spotted no one she was familiar with among the students already seated. Walking to the back of the class and claiming a desk in the corner, Beca placed her stuff down and surveyed the room, fervently hoping not to see a certain pair of bright blue eyes.

When the bell rang, and the teacher entered, Beca let out a sigh of relief. It looked like she was getting off easy, for this class at least.

The hour passed by far too quickly as Beca zoned out, tapping a beat on her desk as she configured a new rhythm in her head to add to her most recent mix. The ringing of the bell jolted her from her thoughts, and she put away her introduction papers, dreading the passing period.

Shoulders tense, Beca quickly skirted the students milling in the halls and slipped inside her English class. She was the first student to arrive, and again picked a seat in the back corner of the classroom. Setting her bag down, she pulled her mp3 out of her pocket. Her headphones were around her neck, like always, and she set them on her head, needing a chance to escape from her fears and into her music.

Beca felt her stomach twist as the first song to come on was  _Titanium_  – it held a special meaning to her, and of  _course_  it reminded her of Chloe. Like she needed any help.

As she busied herself with finding another, less, hm,  _potent_  song, she was hardly paying enough attention to notice the ball of energy hurtling towards her until it collided, tackling Beca out of her seat. Yelping, Beca frantically stuck her arms out to break her fall, landing with a grunt on the carpeted floor of the classroom. She looked up to find herself looking into –

_bright LCD blue eyes_

Shit.

"Hey Beca!" Chloe greeted enthusiastically, face warm and inviting as she hauled herself off of the small brunette, holding out a hand and chuckling at the stunned expression Beca was likely wearing.

Beca swallowed, taking the hand and resuming her position in her seat once more. Slipping her headphones off, she bit her lip and turned her head away from Chloe, muttering a quick "Hey" before lapsing into silence.

She could almost sense the disappointment from Chloe. "Come on, Beca, don't I get a better greeting than that? It's been three weeks! And we didn't even get to talk for most of that time! I've missed you so much!"

Beca risked a glance at the redhead, cursing herself the moment she did. Chloe's bright eyes shone with confusion, and Beca steeled herself, not quite sure how to go about this, but knowing it must be done. "Sorry," she said, and left it at that.

"Beca? Is something wrong?"

"No." She fiddled with the cord of her headphones.

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Beca."

Hating herself even before she said it, Beca replied, "Look, Chloe, I don't really feel like talking right now. Class is about to start. Just be quiet and pay attention." The words were even harsher than she'd realized, and the way Chloe flinched cut deep into Beca.

_you're supposed to be protecting her from pain not causing it you fucking idiot how could you_

_but this will save her from pain in the end if she's already detached_

_and yet she's hurting now it's your own fault you asshole_

_but it's better she hurt now than to hurt later_

_oh really did you try asking her that_

_shut the hell up i'm doing the right thing leave me alone this is better in the long run_

As her mind raged internally, she missed Chloe's response, and when she finally snapped back into reality, the teacher had started class and Chloe was pointedly watching him, her eyes not even remotely straying to Beca.

And oh god it hurt but this was Beca's decision, and life wasn't about easy choices. Sometimes, doing what was best for someone was the hardest thing to do. But a petty argument now, a distancing of friends – Chloe would get over that. Learning her best friend had  _cancer_  – Chloe would _not_  get over that, not any time soon, so really, Beca was saving her. She  _was_.

Chloe's clenched jaw and hurt eyes didn't mean anything, because this was nothing compared to the pain that Beca was sparing her from.

That didn't stop the current situation from hurting any less.

 

…

"Look, Chloe, I don't really feel like talking right now. Class is about to start. Just be quiet and pay attention."

Of course Chloe flinched. For a moment she sat there, stunned, because while Beca had a tendency to be brusque, this was so unlike her. And though Chloe wanted to ask what the matter was, her brain sent a different signal to her mouth, and she said quietly, "Did you even miss me?"

When Beca didn't respond, Chloe stiffened in her seat and turned her attention towards Mr. Wright, their English teacher. She didn't know what was going on, but she hoped it was just Beca being a morning grump.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

 

…

When the bell rang again, Beca scrambled to pack her stuff away in her bag. As she moved to stand up, a hand gripped her wrist. "Now hold up there, missy! We haven't compared schedules yet!" Chloe held out her hand expectantly.

Beca gave her the schedule without thinking, the motion robotic and completely out of Beca's control. Chloe was suddenly acting like everything was normal. But Beca knew Chloe, and the way her smile stretched a bit too wide was the clearest indication that Chloe knew everything wasn't normal, but that she still  _wanted_  it to be.

"Awesome!" Chloe exclaimed, startling Beca from her thoughts. "We've got science, Spanish, and art together, on top of English! I wish we could just be together all day, though, you know?" Her face beamed at her and oh god how could Beca hurt her, it was like kicking a puppy, jesus christ –

"Becs?" Chloe's voice was softer now, and the concern she'd been concealing was starting to leak through.

"Uh, yeah, great," Beca mumbled, taking her schedule back and threading her way through the rows of desks to the door.

Chloe called, "Beca! Hold up! We've got so much to talk about it! You need to tell me _everything_  about your camping trip!"

Beca turned briefly, and when she saw the hurt swimming in Chloe's eyes, she whipped her head back to facing front. "Um, later. I need to get to class." And with that, she hurried out the door, slipping into the throng of students and far, far away from Chloe.

 

…

Her next two classes were Chloe-free, and she lucked out in Environmental Science when their teacher assigned seats. Somehow, Beca ended up on the far side of the room, next to some kid she vaguely remembered from freshman year.

But then the bell rang for lunch, and though Beca managed to slip out before Chloe could catch her, she wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do during free period.

The cafeteria was bustling with "starving" teenagers as Beca entered the room, darting quick glances behind her to make sure that Chloe wasn't there. She slipped into the line and got her meal, before making her way to a table by the window, isolated from all of the other students. Sitting down, she began to eat quickly, worried that Chloe would appear.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Chloe who appeared first, but Aubrey.

Beca winced, scolding herself for her mistake. Aubrey always ate lunch with them – even if she wasn't terribly fond of Beca, she knew that Chloe would be there.

Damn it.

"So," Aubrey said, taking a seat across from Beca. "Camping trip, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," Beca muttered, absentmindedly moving the food on her plate around with her fork. She suddenly found herself feeling sick, and her appetite was long gone. She didn't want to do this forced social interaction, and she _really_  didn't want to piss Aubrey off.

Aubrey snorted. "You're talkative today, aren't you?"

Beca wisely chose to stay silent.

"Bree! It's so good to see you again!" The blonde was nearly knocked over as Chloe wrapped her in a giant hug, coming up from behind and setting her tray of food down first. "And Beca, now we finally have time to catch up, right?" Her eyes focused on the smaller girl, but something seemed off, and Beca knew that Chloe was aware that something was up.

"'M not really hungry anymore," Beca said under her breath, picking up her tray and walking off quickly. She didn't dare look back to see the expressions on Chloe's and Aubrey's faces; she just set her tray down in the designated area and hightailed it out of the cafeteria.

She could almost feel the looks of disappointment and hurt coming from the table she'd left.

 

…

When in doubt, the library was always a safe place to weather away the remaining minutes of the lunch period. Beca ducked through the doors and weaved her way through the familiar maze of shelves, her destination clear in her mind.

The nook was situated behind several bookshelves, a tiny window seat wedged in a hidden corner. Dust danced in the light filtering through the small glass rectangle, and the rays provided just enough light to read a book in comfort without straining the eyes.

Beca set her bag down and positioned herself on the cushion, back against the wall. Her feet pressed against the opposite wall, legs bent from lack of room. She rested her head on the wall, staring absentmindedly at the window.

It hurt.

It hurt a hell of a lot more than Beca had thought – and she'd already believed it would hurt like hell.

Letting out a groan, Beca lifted her head and let it fall back against the wall. She repeated the action, banging her head softly in frustration as she berated herself. But no matter her second guesses, she couldn't shake the image of Chloe's face upon finding out Beca's situation, and that was the only thing that scared her into continuing the plan.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She was about to slip her headphones on when a voice interrupted her thoughts. "No Chloe?"

Beca's eyes snapped open and she turned her head, smiling weakly at Mrs. Shannon, a kindly woman with graying hair and eyes sparkling with wisdom and imagination – always good qualities in a librarian. "Oh, um, not this time," Beca answered feebly. She and Chloe were often together in the library to study, Beca in her current spot and Chloe stretched on the floor next to her.

She almost rolled her eyes as she realized how stupid it was to take shelter here. It was a first instinct, but Chloe knew the place just as well, and was likely to show up soon. _Damn_.

"Well, I can't imagine you have much to study on the first day," Mrs. Shannon commented. "Is there any reason you're here?"

Mrs. Shannon was always a sharp one, and Beca really did not want to deal with that at the moment. The last thing she needed was somebody prying into her business, and while she loved the older woman, she was  _not_  in the mood today. "Just need some time to think," Beca answered vaguely, toying with her headphones in a not-so-subtle signal of 'leave me alone please'.

A crease appeared in Mrs. Shannon's forehead, but she chose not to comment on Beca's behavior, much to the student's relief. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you need to check out a book, you know where to find me." She placed a gentle hand on Beca's shoulder for a short moment, and as she turned and left, Beca couldn't help but feel that Mrs. Shannon knew perfectly well that something was wrong.

It was sweet that she would be there for Beca to talk to, but Beca wasn't particularly interested. The only person she could talk to was the one she was hiding this from, and so, inevitably, she bottled the emotions up deep inside her.

They pushed for a release, straining against her chest, but Beca had had far too much practice at holding her feelings in – it was how she'd coped before Chloe waltzed into her life, and it was how she would cope now. It had worked before, it would work again.

Despite the risk of Chloe coming to find her, Beca wasn't in the mood to leave the peace of the nook. She placed her headphones on and lost herself in pulsing beats and flowing lyrics.

 

…

By some miracle, she'd managed to avoid talking to Chloe in Spanish and Art as well, and when the bell signaling the end of school rang, she almost bolted out of her AP Music Theory class. She didn't share the class with Chloe – thank god – but she couldn't risk running into the redhead now that school was over, not when she no longer had the protection of attention-demanding teachers.

The halls seemed to stretch for miles and the students packing them wall to wall were moving at a snail's pace. Beca impatiently tried to push her way through the crowd, but it was hopeless. Shuffling nervously with the pack, she jumped out at the first opportunity and leaped straight on the bus that led to her neighborhood, sinking low in her seat and glancing cautiously out the window.

She spotted Chloe milling about, and Beca sank even lower. It was obvious by the way Chloe's head swung around that she was looking for Beca, and when the bus finally rattled to life, Beca released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Just as the bus started to pull away from the school and Beca thought she was in the clear, Chloe looked her way, and their eyes met. Beca quickly ducked down again, but the damage was done – Chloe had seen her.

If riding the bus was normal, this wouldn't be a problem. But for the past few years, Beca had ridden home with Chloe, often spending an hour or so at the redhead's house to work on homework or just hang out. She hadn't ridden the bus in years.

Getting her music out, she turned the volume up, trying to block the image of Chloe's stunned face and open mouth out of her mind.

 

…

Beca was riding the bus.

Beca. Was riding. The bus.

Chloe's jaw felt as if it were becoming unhinged as she stood there in shock.

She truly wasn't imagining it. Beca was avoiding her.

And Chloe had no idea in _hell_  why.

The jostling of students running to the remaining buses finally broke Chloe from her state of surprise. Gingerly closing her jaw, she walked mechanically to one of the benches outside the school. Aubrey was sitting there, waiting for Chloe to grab Beca so the three could hang out and celebrate their first day of senior year.

At their celebration - at  _Trey's_ , of course - Aubrey would leave for the bathroom, and Chloe would take Beca's hand in hers, look straight into the brunette's eyes, and begin to talk, to confess, finally. She'd had her whole speech planned out.

_"Beca, can I talk to you for a sec? Listen, there's something I want to tell you. Need to tell you. I've put this off for way too long, but this is the first day of senior year. It's the time for ending the old and beginning something new. And the thing is, Beca, I like you. Not just as a friend. I really, really like you. I don't know if you feel the same way, but if you do, then hear me out. I've liked you since the moment you ran into me in the halls so long ago. I've liked you since you first played your mix for me, since I heard your singing voice for the first time, since you cried in my arms. I've liked you since you made me the first person to receive a CD of your mixes, and made me the first person to see your true smile. I've been scared for far too long, but not anymore. So I was wondering, Beca Mitchell, if you would like to maybe be more than friends?"_

And then she would pull out a sweet briar, and though she knew Beca would wrinkle her nose at the pink petals, Chloe would go on to explain that, despite the thorns on the stem, the flower was sweet and beautiful, and that its meaning was "a wound to heal". She would explain that she knew Beca had been wounded in the past, but that from now on, Chloe would be there to heal her. She would heal her with smiles and kisses and whispered compliments on starry nights. She would heal her with an embrace when least expected, and she would do her best to make Beca as happy as Beca made her.

She and Aubrey had been planning it out for the past couple of weeks, ever since Beca went on her camping trip. Chloe had been so thrilled to see Beca, had been convinced that today would be something special.

But then, Beca was acting strange, and Chloe didn't understand why, and it almost seemed like she was avoiding her, and as she met Beca's eyes through the bus window, Chloe knew then that it didn't  _seem_  like Beca was avoiding Chloe – she  _was_.

And suddenly all of Chloe's fantasies for the day crumbled around her, and she stumbled to the bench, face frozen in incredulity. Aubrey stood up immediately, wrapping her arms around Chloe as the redhead sunk into the embrace.

Aubrey led her onto the bench and took a seat beside her. "What happened? Where's Beca?" she asked gently.

Chloe swallowed hard, ignoring the way her eyes had started to water. "Beca rode the bus," she choked out, knowing Aubrey would understand full well the meaning behind the statement.

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "She brushed you off."

Chloe waved a hand in dismissal. "I-I'm sure there's a reason for it," she said, though her voice sounded decidedly unsure.

"What, is she having a bad day or something?" Aubrey was beginning to get visibly upset.

Chloe frantically tried to placate her. "No, Aubrey, listen, I'm sure there's a reason for it. I – "

"She can't just  _brush you off_. I know she has her issues, or whatever, but she _hurt_  you just now, didn't she? I can see it in your eyes, Chlo! And for what?"

"Bree – "

"A bad day? Not feeling well? 'Oh, I'm just going to brush off my best friend in the world and not even care that  _maybe_  she has  _plans_  for today and that  _maybe_  I should get my head out of my _ass_  and realize that I'm a damn moron!'" Aubrey balled her fists and clenched her teeth. "I  _knew_  she was being rude at lunch today, but I let that slide, because Beca's  _special_  and needs her space, but god _dammit_  Chloe she _hurt_  you just now."

Attempting to calm the blonde down, Chloe placed a hand on Aubrey's shoulder, only to be shoved off. " _No_ , Chloe, do  _not_  try to calm me down! You haven't talked to Beca in two weeks and she can't even be bothered to say _hi_  to the person who does  _everything_  for her?"

"Bree, calm down." Chloe began to fidget, agitated at both Beca's snub and Aubrey's rage – today was  _not_  turning out the way she wanted it to, and as tears pricked the corners of her eyes, she swiped them away angrily. "Just calm down. Today's a sucky day, okay? Don't make it worse."

Aubrey, however, was on the war path, and Chloe could see in her eyes that her friend was not letting Beca off the hook without a fight. "Oh no, Chloe," she said, voice seething, "oh no. I'm going to make it worse. I'm going to make it a  _hell_  of a lot worse until Beca spits out why she felt the need to  _hurt. My. Friend_."

"Bree – "

"Come on," Aubrey growled, leaping up and latching a hand on Chloe's wrist. "We're going to Beca's. She has some explaining to do."

Chloe let herself be dragged, hopping a bit to right herself as Aubrey set off, righteous fury burning in the blonde's eyes. And while Chloe wanted to stop her, she couldn't help but be curious as to why Beca had ignored her, and  _yes_. As Aubrey consistently mentioned, Chloe was hurt.

Walking swiftly across the parking lot, Aubrey dragged Chloe to Aubrey's car and almost forced the redhead into the passenger seat. She slammed the door and entered the driver's side, angrily forcing her key into the ignition. "Um, Bree, what about my car?" Chloe protested feebly.

"We'll get it later." The familiar hum of the car filled the air, and Aubrey jerked the car forward, foot heavy on the gas. As they left the parking lot at a speed Chloe was sure was _highly_  illegal, her thoughts kept wandering to Beca, and to the plans she'd originally had of the day. She thought of how perfect the day was supposed to be, and how crappy it had turned out. And who even knew what awaited her at Beca's house?

She sighed heavily, sadness and disappointment clear in her slumped shoulders. What a way to start senior year.

 

…

The car door slammed shut as Aubrey nearly leapt from her seat, face still a mask of fury. Chloe lingered a moment longer in the car, dreading the confrontation. She was hurt, yes, but she wasn't  _mad_  at Beca – she honestly wasn't sure she _could_  be mad at Beca. No, Chloe was positive that Beca had a really good reason for ignoring her.

And despite how much Chloe was hurting, she knew Beca. She could read the younger girl's eyes. And she saw a pain lingering in them that hadn't been present for many years.

So Chloe _knew_  something was wrong, and that Beca surely had a good reason. She just didn't know  _what._

Resigning herself to Aubrey's determination, Chloe opened the car door on her side and exited, walking up the familiar stone path to the front of Beca's house, a small, two-story building with red brick and gray roof tiles. Chloe hadn't been here nearly as much as Beca had been to Chloe's house, but there was still a certain familiarity, and Chloe still knew Beca's room as well as her own.

She glanced up at Beca's window on the second floor – the blinds were shut and no lights appeared to be on. She tilted her head as she processed the information; was Beca even home?

Well, she was about to find out.

Aubrey punched the doorbell with a finger as Chloe walked up to her side. She glanced around Aubrey's shoulder through the distorted glass of the door window, but saw no movement from inside. Frowning, Chloe looked to Aubrey as the blonde aggressively pushed the doorbell once more.

Still nothing.

After a minute of silent waiting, Aubrey let out a strangled yell of frustration. "Gah!" She threw her hands in the air and stomped off the porch, back to the car. Chloe's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but, with one last glance at the door to affirm that no one was home, she followed her friend.

"Let's go get your car," Aubrey grumbled as she climbed into the driver's seat. "We'll deal with Beca tomorrow. She's sure as hell lucky she's not home today, is all I can say."

Chloe couldn't help but agree with that statement, though she wisely withheld from doing so out loud. As the car pulled away, Chloe bit her lip and kept her eyes on the house until they turned onto a new street and her view was cut off. She reached into her backpack and fiddled with the sweet briar she'd no longer get a chance to use as her thoughts came up with any and all possible explanations for Beca's behavior.

_I just I wish I knew what was wrong._

 

…

Everything. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong in her life.

Honestly, Beca should have seen it coming. She didn't know a great deal about cancer, but it was common knowledge, and really, the fact that she _hadn't_  expected it spoke volumes of her observance abilities.

But for god's sake, she was already  _dying_. Why did she have to be fucking _bald_  on top of it?

Beca was angry. Beca was angry as hell, and _fuck everything she wasn't shaving her godddamn head_.

The past couple of weeks had been simple check-ups and scans – no real treatment had been administered yet, due to lack of proper equipment. Because Beca lived in a small town in Georgia, their hospital wasn't prepared to treat her to the best of modern medicine's capabilities. Since Beca was continuing to attend school in the town, the local hospital had to have certain equipment brought down from Atlanta, and then the doctors had to have it set up and ready to go.

This weekend, Doctor Krebs told Beca that everything would be ready, and that her radiation therapy and chemotherapy would begin on Saturday.

Beca's tumor was, unfortunately, a difficult case, as the scans had revealed. Located in both the temporal and frontal lobes, it was already large, spread out, and very, very difficult to remove – impossible, in fact, with its current damage. Doctor Krebs had shown Beca one of her scans, and the girl couldn't believe it; she couldn't believe that so many cancerous cells had invaded her  _brain_ , and were threatening her life with each passing day.

Surgery was not an option, as they told her upon further inspection. At least, it wasn't an option  _yet_. That was where radiation therapy and chemotherapy came in. Her tumor was severe enough that she needed both, but she was lucky (for once) in that both could be used in tandem.

The radiation therapy and chemotherapy would serve similar purposes: to control and shrink down the size of her tumor in order to make surgery a possibility.

Now that the required equipment was being set up, treatment would at last begin. Sessions of chemotherapy would become a daily thing, followed by radiation treatment. Doctor Krebs had explained the details, but Beca had to be honest in admitting she wasn't paying a terrible amount of attention. She'd figure it out once the sessions started.

But what she'd conveniently forgotten was that, as a side effect of the chemotherapy, her hair cells would be damaged as a result. Her hair would begin to fall out in clumps, and before long, she'd have nothing left.

_Wonderful._  That was just absofuckinglutely _fantastic._  Now Beca would get to go  _wig_ shopping some afternoon this week. Oh, how much more _fun_  could her life  _possibly_  get?

Sitting in the far too familiar doctor's room once more, Beca curled her lip and resisted the urge to snarl at the patiently waiting Doctor Krebs. Beca took several deep breaths, fighting to unclench her teeth as she attempted to calm down.

A moment passed, and though a grimace was still situated on her face, she'd managed to dispel at least a little bit of the anger. Doctor Krebs repeated the question she'd asked earlier. "Would you like us to schedule an appointment with a hair salon this Friday?"

Beca took a moment to mull it over. She _really_  did not want to lose her hair, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was going to happen anyway. At least, if she did it now, it was by her own choice. This was one of the few things in her world that she could still decide what to do; one of the semblances of independence left after the cancer had stripped away control of her life.

Heaving a sigh, Beca nodded at last. "Yeah, do that. Might as well get it over with now."

As the doctor marked it off on her clipboard, Beca flopped back on her seat with a groan, arms hanging loosely off the sides. So maybe she was acting the tiniest bit like a moody teenager. Whatever. Sue her. She had a damn good reason for it.

Beca looked up as Doctor Krebs walked into her viewpoint. After two weeks of constant discussion, Beca held a grudging respect for the woman; she'd also lost all inhibitions of controlling her behavior.

"Having fun there?" Doctor Krebs asked, voice clearly amused.

Beca scowled, retorting, "Bite me."


	5. That Red and Blue Go Bad with Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, AP exams have kept me quite busy, but I'm finally here with a new chapter, and I've finally caught up with the original prompt.
> 
> Also, um –
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for this chapter. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job with the writing, but it's, uh, what I wrote. In the chapter. That you may not like.
> 
> I'm so sorry.

 

 

_**And Really, It's No Surprise** _

__

_Chapter Four:_

_That Red and Blue Go Bad with Tears_

        For such an extraordinary girl, Chloe's mornings were incredibly mundane. She woke up, bashed her alarm clock into cessation, woke up again at her father's insistence, rolled out of bed in a tangle of sheets, made her way to the bathroom with bleary eyes, and proceeded to brush her messy red hair with occasional grunts of pain at the snarls in the hair and the insistence of the school system that she be woken up just after the crack of dawn.

        Normally, she brightened up a moment later with the thought of seeing Beca at school – really, the only bright point to the entire institution as far as Chloe was concerned. But today was not 'normally' and Chloe did not brighten up at the thought of Beca.

        Not that her thoughts weren't of Beca – quite the contrary. Ever since the previous afternoon, Chloe's thoughts had been solely focused on Beca. The entire time. Her dad had even wandered in to her room to find Chloe writing Beca's name in place of answers for her math homework. (It was getting slightly out of hand.)

        Her thoughts had not abated, but they'd been reduced to one singular concept:  _why_  was Beca avoiding Chloe?

        Why, why, why. It was the primary question, and it was one that frustratingly lacked an answer. She'd been combing through her memories, but she could not come up with _any logical reason_  for Beca's behavior.  _Nothing_.

        It was aggravating as hell.

        Slipping on her clothes for the day, Chloe grabbed her bag from her room and entered the kitchen to swipe a bowl of cereal and seat herself at the table. Her mom was already gone for work, but her dad was still there, reading the newspaper and sipping his morning coffee. He glanced up briefly at Chloe before returning to his paper.

        As Chloe absentmindedly ate her cereal, the house quiet now that her brothers had left for college once more, her dad looked up again, brows furrowing as he took in his daughter's behavior. "Something on your mind?" he asked hesitantly, expression a bit incredulous.

        Chloe jolted from her thoughts. "Um, no, what makes you think that?"

        Her dad raised an eyebrow. "…No reason."

        Instead of pressing him for answers, she returned to her thoughts.

        "…Chloe? What's bothering you?"

        "Nothing, why?" Chloe didn't understand why her dad continued to press her. Unlike his daughter and his youngest son, Chloe's dad was a rather quiet man, and he wasn't normally one for early morning conversation.

        He pointed at her hand and said, "Because that spoon's been empty for the past minute."

        Confused, Chloe glanced down and realized that the spoon she'd been using to eat her cereal was, in fact, empty, and that she'd been bringing it from the bowl to her mouth continuously without actually putting any food on it.

        Oh wow, she was out of it.

        "Oh. Huh."

        "Something's eating at you. Would you mind if I asked what?" That was one interesting thing about her dad – he didn't push. It was one of the aspects Beca had always told Chloe she loved about him.

        And speaking of Beca. "No, I don't mind," Chloe replied. "It's…it's Beca."

        Her dad's expression grew puzzled. "Is she okay?"

        "Yeah, I mean, no, I mean, I don't know," Chloe admitted. "I was really super excited to see her again yesterday, but she's acting a little weird, I guess? It's like she's avoiding me, but the thing is, I can't figure out why. I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything to upset her." She frowned at the thought. "But I haven't really gotten the chance to ask her what's up. Because of the whole, you know, avoiding thing."

        Chloe's dad set his newspaper down and rested his elbows on the table. "That  _is_  strange. You know, I do remember thinking it was a little odd that she didn't come home with you yesterday. You're sure you don't know what's wrong?"

        "Positive," Chloe affirmed.

        "Well, there's not much I can tell you. You'll have to find some way to ask her today. Knowing Beca, she has her reasons for avoiding you, but that _is_  slightly concerning. I haven't seen her close herself off in years."

        "Yeah," Chloe breathed, "yeah, I know. That's what worries me."

…

        Beca's mornings often mirrored Chloe's own. Perhaps it was a product of so many nights and subsequent mornings spent at the Beale household – Beca wasn't sure. Well, she'd never really dwelled on the fact.

        Unfortunately, her morning was about to become vastly different.

        Her mom was still in her room, freshening up for work, while Beca was in the kitchen, readying a Poptart and a glass of milk. She bobbed her head in time to the music in her headphones – even this early in the morning, she had her music out – and grabbed her breakfast from the counter as she made her way to the dining table.

        A slight trembling began in her body, but Beca pushed it out of her mind. The glass cup wobbled in her hand as she set it down, and she began to nibble on her Poptart. As she drank her milk and ate her breakfast, her mind wandered to the mix she'd been working on the night before. None of her mixes had been working for her since she had been diagnosed, and this new one was no different.

        Her mind began to cloud, and she found herself having difficulty concentrating on the mix. Slightly annoyed, Beca took her headphones off and snatched her mp3 out of her pocket, setting the two items on the table. This did little to help her concentration as a fog seeped into her mind; her thoughts became hazy and her body was still trembling.

        Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, Beca swiped her now empty glass from the table and stood up from her chair, tripping over her own feet and gripping the table's edge for support. She stumbled a few steps onto the tile of the kitchen as the world began to spin around her, and she blinked her eyes wearily.

        Through the haze in her mind, Beca could hear a sound, a shatter, but she wasn't much sure of anything anymore. For some reason the floor was rising up to meet her…?

        Her head banged against the tile as her limbs began to flail, narrowly missing the shattered glass on the floor beside her, but Beca wasn't aware of any of it, just an annoying, incessant fog that filled her brain and kept her from rational thought.

        New sounds rent the air – moans, yells, something along those lines. Beca wasn't really sure where they were coming from, but to be fair, she wasn't really sure of anything at the moment. Her throat hitched, and it almost felt like she was underwater because her lungs were screaming; but that was silly, because of course she was above water, and she was breathing, right?

        Her body bucked in the air, then stiffened, then bucked again, and Beca's eyes were wide open and staring, but the room was a blur of colors that wouldn't make sense in Beca's mind.

        Movement came from her peripheral vision, and another person was at her side, shouting or crying or something, always something, because Beca didn't really know what was going on anymore. She felt a soft object being slipped underneath her head as it jerked up and down, but her body still thrashed and Beca really wasn't certain anymore if she really wasn't underwater because it  _really_  felt like she couldn't breathe, and her tongue was stinging and her ears were ringing and her eyes flitted back and forth but nothing registered to Beca's addled mind and –

        - at last, darkness enveloped her and her mind grew peaceful as her body grew still.

…

        The bell rang for second period as Chloe scooped up her papers, packed her bag, and just about raced down the hallway to her English class. No matter how much Beca tried to avoid Chloe, she  _had_  to take the class, and Chloe wasn't giving her a chance to escape without an explanation.

        Except –

        As the bell rang for class to start, the corners of Chloe's mouth turned down, and her eyes shifted back and forth between the empty seat beside her and the door. Despite her appearance and demeanor, Beca was a good student, and it wasn't like her to be late.

        And yet, class had started, and there was no Beca in sight.

        Mr. Wright instructed the class to find a partner and discuss _Wuthering Heights_  – the required summer reading - as a warm-up. Chloe was approached almost immediately by three different students she was familiar with, and smiled warmly at them before agreeing to work with Trevor, the linebacker on the school's football team. Contrary to common belief, Trevor was an amiable guy with good grades and a charitable streak, and he and Chloe were friendly acquaintances of a sort; they often paired up in classes that Chloe didn't share with Beca.

        Unfortunately, Trevor took notice of Beca's absence – although, really, anybody would. If Chloe and Beca shared a class, it was a one hundred percent guarantee that the two would be working together. "I'm surprised she's missing the second day of class. Is she sick?" Trevor asked.

        Chloe bit her lip. "I'm…not sure, actually."

        Trevor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You mean you haven't talked to her about it?"

        "I, uh, not, well…" She trailed off, and Trevor – thankfully – took the hint.

        "Oh, okay. So,  _Wuthering Heights_. Heathcliff's an ass. That's about it."

        This earned a chuckle from Chloe as she nodded her agreement, and the two lapsed into an easy conversation over the revenge complex of the main character in the book. It wasn't enough to truly distract Chloe, though, as her thoughts continually shifted to Beca, and the painful thought that Beca was skipping the class because Chloe was in it.

        Her next two classes flew by, and Chloe found herself increasingly distracted as she made her way to her science class – the class she had right before lunch, and the second class of the day that she shared with Beca.

        And again, as the class began, Chloe shifted uncomfortably when no familiar face walked through the door. Placing her pen in her mouth, Chloe bobbed her leg up and down in impatience as she waited for the class to end and lunch to begin. At least she'd be seeing Aubrey, and the blonde would provide some much needed company (if she'd managed to calm down from the day before).

        …Okay, that was a big 'if'.

…

_Pain._

        Someone took a fucking sledgehammer to her head, apparently. Beca groaned at the pounding in her skull and opened her eyes to –

        To –

        Where the hell was she.

        There were bright lights and white walls and oh _fuck_. She was in the hospital. Why was she in the hospital.

        She shut her eyes again, the lights only increasing the pounding in her head. Beca racked her brain for answers, but nothing was coming up. The last thing she remembered was getting up for the morning and grabbing breakfast, which did  _not_  explain why she was in the hospital and why her head felt like a construction site.

        The click of a door opening reached Beca's ears, and the girl opened her eyes very slightly, squinting as her sight focused to reveal that Doctor Krebs had just entered her room. The woman smiled sadly as she noticed Beca's conscious state. "How are you feeling?"

        Moaning, Beca rolled her eyes. "Terrible, or I wouldn't be in here, apparently. What happened?" Her voice was dry, and she glanced to a table at her bedside where a glass of water lay. She'd be taking advantage of that in a moment.

        Doctor Krebs perched on a desk in the corner and set her clipboard down beside her. "You had a seizure. A grand mal, to be specific, but I don't think you know what that means, correct?"

        Beca's blank look answered for her.

        "I thought so. It's just a fancy scientific term for a general seizure, in which you experience convulsions and loss of consciousness. You've been out for a fair bit."

        "How long?" she croaked, reaching a hand out to grab the water and struggling to sit up. Since Doctor Krebs made no move to stop her, she must not have been in too bad of shape.

        The doctor said, "About three hours. You had your seizure during breakfast. Your mother rushed you here as soon as you'd stopped moving. I believe you gave her quite the scare. Walking downstairs to your daughter crying out on the floor is not a welcome sight."

        Beca winced, realizing the pain it must have caused her mother to see that. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

        "It's not your fault," Doctor Krebs said simply. "Anyway, we've checked you out, and despite your fall to the tile, you've managed to escape a concussion. Unfortunately, you do have some small lacerations on your right arm. They're shallow, and we've bandaged them up, but they'll sting for a bit." At Beca's questioning look, the doctor explained, "You dropped a glass cup when the seizure began. It shattered on the floor, and the shards were in range of your arm."

        "Ah." She looked down at her arm, noticing the patches on the skin for the first time. "Is my mom here?"

        Doctor Krebs smiled. "Yes, of course. Would you like me to go get her?"

        Beca nodded, and the doctor disappeared for a moment. Sipping her glass of water, Beca couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through her. This was real. It was really, truly real. She lifted her left hand and gently ran them over the bandages on her right arm, the marks proving that she was sick, that she was off, that her body wasn't functioning right and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

        The door burst open and rapid footsteps could be heard as Beca's mom entered the room and flung her arms around her daughter's shoulders. Beca stiffened in surprise as she felt a sob in her mom's chest, and she gently pushed her mom back. "Hey," she murmured, "it's okay. I'm okay." It felt strange to be comforting her mom in this case, when Beca was the injured party, but as her mom's face came into view and Beca saw the tear tracks marring the cheeks, she knew that her mom needed Beca's help far more than Beca needed hers.

…

        "Please be careful," her mom instructed as Beca opened the car door, backpack in hand.

        Beca got out of the car and turned around, looking her mom square in the eyes. "I will, I promise," she said, meaning every word of it.

        "Are you sure you want to go to school? You can easily just take the rest of the day off. It's an excused absence."

        Beca gave a lopsided smile – it was interesting, really, how much the dynamic between her mom and her had changed over the past couple of weeks. For the first time in years, the two seemed to understand each other. If only it wasn't cancer that had to bring it out. "I'll be fine, Mom. But I can't afford to miss class on the second day of school."

        Her mom opened her mouth to say something more, but Beca interjected. "I've got my card, and I'll go talk to the nurse so that somebody knows the situation in full. It'll be okay."

        Still fretting, her mom nodded, and said a last "Be careful!" before driving away. Beca almost laughed when she saw her mom watching the rearview mirror to keep an eye on Beca as she drove away. For as much as they'd fought over the years, this new change was nice. Of course, Beca didn't know if she'd get to enjoy the change for more than a few months, but she  _really_  didn't want to think about dying today, not when she'd already endured a seizure.

        She walked into the school, glancing at her watch and realizing that all of the students would be at lunch right now. Thankfully, she and her mom had swung by Taco Bell earlier to grab a quick bite to eat, so Beca didn't need to mess with the lines and the inevitable questioning looks. Instead, she made her way down the front hall to the nurse's room, quickly stopping to pick up an excuse at the attendance office first. Her hand – the non-bandaged one – reached up to fiddle with the string around her neck that held her information card. She'd been viewing it as a nuisance, mostly, but this morning had very quickly taught her that the card would be more than necessary if a repeat performance happened without her mom nearby to help.

        As Beca approached the office, she hesitated, standing in the doorway awkwardly until Mrs. Bennett, the school nurse, looked up from her desk to see the girl and smiled, beckoning for her to come inside. "Hello! Come in, don't be shy. It's Ms. Mitchell, correct?"

        Beca nodded, partially stunned that the nurse managed to remember her name among the couple thousand students that attended the school. Mrs. Bennett continued talking. "Well then, I know you're not here for pleasantries. So, can you tell me what's wrong?" She motioned for Beca to take a seat on one of the beds in the room, eyeing the bandages on the girl's arm, but Beca shook her head, twiddling her fingers.

        She bit her lip, rocking back and forth on her feet as she fought to tell the nurse the truth – it was the first time Beca would have to tell anyone, and the thought terrified her. Like the cuts on her arm, admitting it to someone was just admitting to herself that everything was beyond the realm of nightmares. Mrs. Bennett frowned, and opened her mouth to say something, but Beca cut her off. "Uh, yeah, it's, um, a thing. That you should know about. I, uh, here." She fumbled with the strap around her neck, pulling it over her head and yanking the card out from her under her shirt. She held it out abruptly, and Mrs. Bennett took it with some confusion in her eyes.

        As the nurse held the card in her hands, her eyes widened exponentially, darting back and forth between the card and the distressed student in front of her. Wordlessly, she handed the card back to Beca, who quickly slung it around her neck once more. "I see," Mrs. Bennett said, voice much softer. "Is this so I'll be prepared if anything happens?"

        Beca nodded, not really sure what to say.

        A hand landed on Beca's shoulder, and she jerked her head up to meet Mrs. Bennett's eyes. "I'm always here if you need anything," she told the girl solemnly. Beca bobbed her head up and down, and stiffened as she saw the nurse's eyes starting to glisten.

        "I, uh, I gotta get to class," Beca mumbled, turning and walking rapidly from the room, fists clenched at her sides. She didn't want pity. She didn't need people looking at her like she was going to drop dead any second. She was  _fine_. There was still a  _chance_.

        The next few minutes consisted of Beca running to the classes she'd missed to grab her make-up work, letting each of the teachers know that she'd been out sick for the morning, and that she'd already given her excuse to the office. Most teachers were okay with this, but Mr. Wright gave Beca an odd look as he handed her the day's work. "Shouldn't you be at home if you're sick?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

        "I, uh, got better," Beca replied, knowing full well how feeble the excuse was. To be fair, she  _had_ been sick – still was, unfortunately – so it wasn't as if she was lying to her teachers. She was just…withholding a few details. "I need to get to my next class." And with that, Beca shot off like a rocket from the classroom.

        Goddamn observant teachers.

…

        Chloe picked at her food with her fork, not feeling particularly hungry today. Her thoughts, as always, were on Beca.

        Well until, that is, Aubrey released a spectacular groan of frustration. Startled, Chloe lifted her head up, resembling a deer in headlights as she wondered what had caused her friend's sudden exasperation. Her face contorted in confusion, and Aubrey groaned again, saying, "Can you  _please_  stop moping around for one second and remember that Beca isn't your only friend?"

        Oh. Thinking about it, Chloe guessed she kind of had been ignoring Aubrey for part of lunch…most of lunch…all of lunch. Chloe sighed, setting her fork down. "I'm just thinking."

        Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Yes, I got that. But instead of sitting there and wallowing in whatever it is you're wallowing in, how about we talk it out and devise a plan?"

        Chloe tilted her head and lifted a knowing eyebrow. "Are you calm enough to do that?"

        " _Yes_ ," Aubrey said, exasperation evident in her voice. "I told you, I got a little carried away yesterday. I was mad, okay? And don't think I'm not mad anymore, because I'm still tempted to murder Beca the next time I see her." As Chloe prepared to interject, Aubrey held up a finger. "I  _won't_  do anything, I promise. I'll just be tempted. Now, are we going to figure this out, or are you going to be all doom-and-gloom for the next three periods?"

        With a defeated exhale, Chloe conceded that Aubrey had a point. "Fine. But there's not really much to plan. I just figured I'd try heading to Beca's house again today, and make sure I speak with her no matter what. That's all there is to it."

        "Do you want me to come?"

        Chloe's brows rose as she gave Aubrey a look of supreme 'please-tell-me-you're-joking'. Aubrey huffed and crossed her arms. "Okay, fine, I get it. You don't trust me." Chloe continued giving her the look, and Aubrey threw up her hands in frustration. "Fine! Go without me! I don't care!" Chloe flashed her a smile as the blonde began mumbling under her breath about how she was _too_ able to control her temper, thank you very much.

        "Bree, I just think this is something I should do alone, okay?" Chloe said in an attempt to assuage her friend.

        Aubrey nodded. "Yeah, no, I understand. Does this mean no plans for the afternoon?"

        "Yes, most likely."

        "Fine. But we're hanging out tomorrow, okay?" Aubrey was wearing her infamous pout, and Chloe couldn't help a little giggle at her friend's expression.

        "Totes," she promised, knowing the real reason behind Aubrey's insistence on meeting up tomorrow – no matter how much Aubrey tried to hide it, Chloe knew that the blonde was offering her comfort in case her meeting with Beca didn't end well.

        Aubrey rolled her eyes at her friend, then frowned. Tentatively, she asked, "Should I get some ice cream?"

        Biting her lip, Chloe said, "I hope it doesn't come to that. But it wouldn't hurt."

        "Chocolate or rocky road?"

        "Please. You don't even need to ask."

        Aubrey smirked. "Triple fudge it is."

…

        For some reason, Beca had been so inexplicably distracted by her teachers' suspicions that she failed to recall that Spanish, the first class she had after lunch, was a class shared with a certain best friend/person at the top of her 'To Avoid' list.

        So when Chloe bounced into class and locked eyes with Beca almost instantaneously, Beca knew she was dead. (Well, more so than she already was.) She ducked her head, hoping not to draw attention to herself, but it was far, far too late for that.

        The chair next to her scraped against the floor as Chloe sat down. " _Beca_ ," she said, and Beca almost flinched at the tone of voice. Chloe did not anger easily, but when she  _did_ , it was _not_  a good idea to be on the receiving end. While her tone suggested a simple warning, it was enough to terrify Beca.

        "Um, hey," she muttered, turning her head from her friend.

        Even though she couldn't see it, Beca swore that Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Where were you earlier today?"

        Beca gulped audibly and shifted her head so that she could partially see Chloe. "I was a little sick," she said. It was kind of sort of the understatement of the  _year_ , but it was true.

        "Are you okay?" Genuine worry laced Chloe's voice.

        Beca almost smacked her head with her palm. How could Chloe be such a perfect person? Here Beca was, ignoring her, and she was still concerned about Beca's wellbeing. "Fine," she lied, then directed her attention to their teacher. As class started, Beca's skin prickled, and a glance to her side indicated that Chloe was staring very intently at her.

        The class wore on, and the teacher didn't give them any free time, so Beca didn't have to worry about any conversations with Chloe. When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Chloe immediately began talking. "So what happened? What do you mean by 'sick'? And what about those bandages on your arms?"

        "I got a little dizzy," Beca muttered, shouldering her backpack and exiting the room with Chloe by her side. They were both going to the same class, so she didn't bother trying to elude Chloe. "And I fell on some glass."

        "That sucks." Chloe gave Beca a sympathetic smile, and Beca could almost hear her heart shattering in her chest, because, yeah, she was doing this to protect Chloe, but _damn it all why was doing the right thing so painful._  "So, any plans for tonight?"

        "Um, not really," Beca conceded, before realizing that admitting she was free probably wasn't the best of ideas.

        "Awesome! Then we can hang out! I'll come by your house around four, okay?"

        Beca began to panic, waving her arms frantically in front of her. "No, Chlo, wait – "

        "See you then!" With a smile, Chloe skipped away, and Beca slumped against a wall. Well _shit_. She'd walked right into that one. No amount of backpedalling could have saved her from that.

        She sighed, heading into the art class and taking a seat a few chairs down from Chloe. For once, the redhead didn't push, but Beca knew this was because of the new afternoon plans.

        Slouching in her seat, Beca placed her arms on the table and dropped her head into them with a groan. Today was just _perfect_. Sarcasm very much intended.

…

        Chloe stayed in the back of the crowd, eyes watching intently as Beca slipped her way through the masses and onto the bus for the second day in a row. She bit her lip, then turned and went straight to the parking lot, keys in hand as she jumped in her car and revved the engine.

        The buses pulled out of the school parkway, and Chloe followed. She knew perfectly well where Beca lived, but she wasn't going to give the girl a chance to hole herself up in her room. No, Chloe would be there the moment Beca took a step off that bus.

        From an outside point-of-view, Chloe's interference might seem unwanted and unreasonable, but Chloe had known Beca for _years._  She knew exactly how her best friend worked, and she had earned the right to know if something was wrong.

        As she kept her hands on the wheel, Chloe ignored the tightening in her chest. It pained her, more than anything, to know that Beca didn't trust her enough to share what was going on. They had been there for each other for  _everything_ – Chloe just wanted Beca to know that she was  _still going to be there_. That whatever was bothering Beca wasn't the end of the world, and that she could talk it out with Chloe, and that, no matter what, Chloe would be by her side.

        Beca's house came into view, and the bus screeched as it came to a halt. Putting her car in park, Chloe hopped out and began a brisk walk to her disembarking friend.

…

        The doors hissed shut as Beca landed on the sidewalk, stiffening almost instantly as her peripheral vision signaled somebody making a beeline for her. Turning slowly, Beca's eyes widened as she saw a determined Chloe making quick strides down the street.

        Beca let out an imperceptible squeak, and promptly scrambled to her door, rushing up the walk to her house as she heard the footsteps becoming heavier behind her. She was fumbling for her key when a shadow darkened her view, and she gulped audibly. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned around and offered Chloe a tentative smile. "Want to come inside?" she asked, voice small.

        Chloe nodded once, but refrained from saying anything, and with that little motion, Beca knew she was in some deep shit. She placed the key in the lock and opened the door, gesturing hesitantly. Chloe kept up her silence as she breezed past Beca. Once Beca had shut the door behind her, Chloe whirled around to face the smaller girl, jabbing a finger in her chest.

        "Now listen here," she began, "and don't say a word. _You_ have been avoiding me." Beca's mouth opened, but froze as Chloe's glare pierced her eyes. "Let me finish. You have been avoiding me. But the thing is, Beca, you won't tell me  _why_ , and I think I deserve to know that! We've been best friends for over _five years_  and you can't just decide to waltz out of my life like that, so you better have a damn good explanation for yesterday and today." Finishing her tirade, Chloe crossed her arms over chest as Beca squirmed.

        "I, uh," Beca began, throat going dry in fear – whether it was from Chloe's rant, or the necessity of the avoidance, Beca wasn't sure. "I wasn't feeling well?" Beca offered, shooting Chloe a half-smile in an attempt to win her back.

        Chloe was clearly not amused. With a snort, she said, "Oh, right, okay. You get to ignore me because you're a little sick. That makes perfect sense. Thanks for clearing that right up. I'll be on my way now." When she made no indication of moving, Beca grimaced, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck.

        "There's just some stuff going on, and I just don't really want to talk to anyone now, you know?" Dammit, Beca knew she had to be more forceful, but it was so ridiculously hard even  _trying_  to be mean to Chloe – just the thought alone turned her stomach.

        Chloe's eyes softened at Beca's statement, but she also appeared a little hurt. Uncrossing her arms, Chloe took a step forward. "Beca, you can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?" she said softly. "I'll always be here for you."

_But I won't for you_ , Beca thought, steeling her nerves. "No." Her voice suddenly felt abrasive. "There's nothing to talk about."

        Something seemed to break in Chloe's expression, and the anger melted away in an instant. "Beca, please, talk to me," she whispered, reaching out hand. Beca pushed it away, hating herself for doing it. Chloe's voice became pleading. "Beca,  _please_. Tell me what's wrong. I don't want to lose our friendship."

        "It's nothing," Beca forced out through gritted teeth. "I just want some space. Now leave me alone."

        " _Please_ , Beca, don't shut me out."

        "Chloe, enough."

        Chloe began to sniffle, and Beca fought her hardest to keep her stony expression. "We're friends, Beca, I'll always be here for you, so  _please_ tell me what's wrong!"

        Beca shook her head. "It's nothing that concerns you."

        As Chloe's eyes began to glisten, she stamped her foot on the ground in frustration. "Beca! I care for you, and I won't let you do this to yourself! Something's bothering you and I'm not leaving until I know what it is!"

         "I thought we were 'friends'," Beca mocked scathingly. Her head pounded and a part of her screamed to stop what she was doing, but it was for the best. Ending it now was the only way. "And 'friends' don't push each other to do something they don't want to."

        A few tears began to spill from Chloe's eyes as she raised her voice in reply. "Beca, can't you see that I care about you? I'm just trying to do what's best! And I  _know_  you, and I  _know_ you're hurting, and I  _don't understand why you won't let me in._ "

        Beca sneered. "Please. I'm just a charity case."

        Gasping, Chloe reeled back in shock. "Is  _that_  what you think of me? That that's what I view you as?" she asked in amazement.

        "It's the truth, isn't it?"

        " _Of course it's not_!" Chloe's voice was shrill in desperation.

        "Then be a true friend and leave."

        " _Goddammit Beca I like you_."

        A pause.

        Beca's jaw went slack with shock as Chloe clapped a hand to her mouth. "What?" Beca breathed out, not believing what she was hearing. That couldn't be true. She couldn't have heard that right.

        Chloe straightened her back, ignoring the tears sliding down her cheeks. "You know what? I'm not hiding it anymore. Beca, I like you. More than a friend. I have for a long time. And I think you like me too. But you know what? If you can look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me you don't feel the same, then I'll leave. But if you can't, then know that I'm never letting you go."

        No.

        No.

        How?

        What?

_Chloe liked Beca?_

        This whole time –

        This whole time –

        This. Whole. Time. If Beca had just screwed up her courage, she could have had a couple of happy years with Chloe, but she found out  _now_?! _Now_ , as she was  _dying_?!

        Oh god. Oh. God.

        Chloe's eyes were trained on hers, and Beca wanted nothing more than to scream  _yes, yes_  and to leap into her arms and to kiss her and –

        And she was dying. Beca was dying. And if losing a friend was worse, losing a partner? That was infinitely more so. The _pain_ Beca would put Chloe through…

        So Beca clenched her jaw. And she lifted her head. And she looked Chloe, right in the eyes, and with a straight face –

_because really, she'd had lots of examples; "I'm working late tonight, honey, I'll be home later", "Your father and I love each other very much", "I'm not leaving your mom's side, Beca", "He'll be back"_

        - Beca lied. "No," she said, voice dead and monotonous, but far, far too convincing. "No, Chloe, I don't return your feelings." And as Chloe's eyes flooded, Beca continued in that dead tone, "I think we should take a break. Your feelings might make things uncomfortable. It's best if you leave."

        Somehow she maintained her expressionless façade as Chloe raced out of the house, sobbing, and got in her car and slammed the door shut. And then she was gone, and Beca stood there all alone, and all she could think of was how  _wrong_  the tears looked amidst the red hair –

        - and of how fitting they felt with her brown.


	6. That the Gate to Love Is Open Once the Gate to Life Is Shut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long overdue, and I sincerely apologize for that. I wish I could say updates are about to become quicker, but I'm going to have to take a hiatus soon (I should have one more chapter out before I leave, and I'll give you the details then). However, school is finally over, I'm graduating on Friday, and yep!
> 
> For anyone who wants to keep updated on my progress with this fic, I've created a tumblr just for my fics that you can find here:
> 
> contumaciouspauperfics.tumblr.com
> 
> I currently have a tumblr just under contumaciouspauper, but that's just me reblogging whatever I want, and that's not really helpful to those who only want the fic. So, yeah, there's that. Anyway, here's the newest chapter, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, a million thanks to my readers! You help to make this story special for me, and it means more than anything to know that people out there are reading and enjoying it!

_**And Really, It's No Surprise** _

_****_

_Chapter Five:_

_That the Gate to Love Is Open Once the Gate to Life Is Shut_

        The feeling was something akin to a car crash run afoul of her worst nightmare. Deep pressure weighed heavy in her heart as her head grew light from lack of air. An unwelcome cascade ran down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe it clean, keeping her hands in a death grip on the steering wheel, knuckles white.

        Her thoughts were a mess that she didn't much care to sort out at the moment, not while driving. So she placed her mind on autopilot, and drove, as expected, not to her house, but to the house of the person who best understood her and her fears.

        Aubrey's doorway loomed as Chloe parked her car and drifted out of the seat, feet gliding towards the front door as her body moved in a daze. A shaking finger pushed the doorbell, and a familiar melody rang before the entrance opened.

        Not even a second glance was needed before Aubrey was ushering Chloe inside, seating the redhead on her couch and hustling to the fridge to pull out a carton of ice cream. Chloe's eyes stung as she shook her head and pushed the proffered item away, and Aubrey gently set it down on the coffee table, knowing that her friend would eventually change her mind.

        A silence enveloped them, and Chloe sniffled, the tears still streaming freely down her face. Aubrey didn't say anything. Instead, she held out a tissue box, eyes kind and gentle. Chloe wondered how she'd managed to find such an amazing friend, and she took the offered item, dabbing at her eyes as she bit her lip and lost herself to the thoughts plaguing her.

        It wasn't as if she hadn't considered the possibility.

        Rather, Chloe had considered the possibility far too many times. It had been her greatest fear: rejection not just of her feelings, but her friendship. The age-old "will I ruin what we have now if I try to go for more" question.

        She'd just learned the answer was a clear and resounding " _yes"_.

…

        The wall had either become infinitely more interesting or Beca was slowly losing her mind, because sitting in bed for over two hours staring at a blank spot on her bedroom wall did absolutely nothing in reinforcing her sanity.

        Her headphones lay abandoned beside her, music still pulsing faintly as her mp3 continued to play, despite the lack of a listener. Not even music could quell the pangs in her heart, nor could her raging headache distract her from the tears glistening on her cheeks.

        Today, her dream, her fantasy for over three years, had come true. Chloe Beale had confessed to harboring secret feelings of romance for Beca. It was all she had ever wanted, really; on the tier system of dreams, Chloe returning her feelings was placed even above becoming a famous DJ/music producer in L.A. She couldn't have asked for more.

        Except, now she could ask for more; she could ask for so much more. She could ask for a chance to apologize, for forgiveness of her actions and her words, and for a second chance at her dreams.

        But mostly, she could ask for a chance to live.

        Life was a cruel, cruel joke. Right as the proverbial fruit was tossed in her lap, she found her arms pinned at her sides, unable to reach and take a bite as her body rebelled, destroying itself from the inside out. Her ultimate dream sat tantalizingly in front of her, but she was forbidden to reach, and even if she could, the fruit would turn rotten in her mouth once the truth was revealed of Beca's situation.

        Fuck everything. Fuck L.A., fuck love, fuck  _life_.

        And most importantly, fuck the fact that she'd never get a chance to have any of those.

…

        "Do you want to talk?" Aubrey whispered, hands fiddling at her sides. Chloe could tell she was nervous, and really, Chloe did  _not_  want to talk, but she hated worrying her friend so much.

        "No," she murmured, "but I will." Shifting on the couch, Chloe offered a tentative smile in an attempt to reassure Aubrey that she was okay, really. She just needed some time.

        Aubrey nodded in acknowledgment and sat down beside Chloe, putting a comforting arm around Chloe's shoulders and pulling her close. This time, the smile on Chloe's face was real. Aubrey wasn't nearly as big a fan of physical affection as Chloe was, so the gesture was rare, and greatly appreciated.

        Heaving a sigh, Chloe ignored the drying tear tracks on her face and spoke quietly. "I went to see Beca," she began. "To, um, to ask about her behavior. You know?"

        "Yes," Aubrey replied simply, the word carrying an encouraging tone.

        "Well, I confronted her, I guess. And she admitted that there was some stuff going on. And I just wanted to know what was  _wrong_. So I told her that she could always talk to me, but…" Chloe bit her lip, not particularly wanting to continue.

        Aubrey said, "It's okay, everything's okay. Are you up to talking about it?"

        "Yeah." Chloe sighed. "It's…she started acting kind of weird, saying things I know she didn't mean. Things that – well, mean things. That were really unlike her. And, agh! I don't know!" Chloe pulled away from Aubrey and clenched her fists at her side. "I just kind of blurted out that I had feelings for her! And I told her that if she could look me in the eyes and tell me she didn't feel the same, then I'd leave." Her voice grew hushed. "And she did," Chloe said, voice small and fresh tears beginning to sting at her eyelids. "And she told me that maybe we should take a break. From being friends. So I left, and I drove here, and – " A sob wrenched from her throat as Chloe buried her head in Aubrey's shoulder.

        "Hey, shhh, it's okay, Chlo, it's okay," Aubrey murmured, running her hand up and down Chloe's back.

        Another sob choked the redhead. "No, it's  _not_!" she cried. "It's all my fault! I ruined _everything_! Why did I have to be so  _stupid_? Of  _course_  Beca doesn't feel the same! How could I think she did? An-and now we're not even  _friends_! I ruined  _everything_!"

        Forceful hands tore her away from Aubrey, and a dazed Chloe looked into the blonde's eyes blazing in self-righteous anger. "You listen to me, Chloe, and you listen hard." Aubrey's voice was stern as her hands gripped Chloe's shoulders, keeping the redhead's eyes on her. " _None of this_  is your fault.  _None_. I don't know what's going on with Beca, but she's an absolute  _idiot_  if she thinks you're not worthy of being her friend anymore, and  _you're_  an absolute idiot for thinking that!"

        Chloe's jaw dropped in shock, but Aubrey had no intentions of stopping. "You are an amazing person, Chlo. So what if Beca doesn't like you that way? You're heartbroken, yeah, it sucks. It does. I get it. But you did  _not_  ruin everything. Give it a week. A week for you to recover, and a week for Beca to get over herself. Until then, no talking to each other. And  _then_ , we'll sort this out. You two can go back to being friends, okay? This will _not_ ruin  _anything_!"

        "B-but what if Beca doesn't want to be fri – "

        "Then she's a bigger idiot than I thought," Aubrey answered scathingly. "Plus, she's the one who started this whole thing.  _She's_  the one who was initially avoiding you. Okay, so maybe she's got some issues she needs to work out. I get it. She's Beca. She doesn't do emotion or friendship or whatever. But whatever she says, Beca  _loves you_  Chloe, be it as a friend or whatever. She will  _not_  throw away your friendship over something as trivial as this. Okay?"

        Chloe swallowed thickly and nodded her head, fighting back a small smile as Aubrey muttered, "And if she does, I'll personally beat her ass."

        Aubrey turned her attention back to Chloe. "This needs some time. Things are going to be a little awkward. Beca's a weirdo who – "

        "Hey!" Chloe protested.

        "Fine. Beca's a  _person_  who doesn't deal well with things, and she'll need her space too. But don't you dare let it ruin your friendship, and don't you dare let  _her_  let it ruin your friendship. You two have been joined at the hip for five years, and I'll be damned if something happens to split you apart. For now, though, let's have some ice cream and forget all about stupid crushes and romance, okay?"

        A weak nod from Chloe was the reply, and Aubrey handed her the carton and a spoon. "Great! Let me grab  _The Fast and the Furious_ , and we're good to go, okay?"

        Chloe's brow furrowed. " _The Fast and the Furious_? Aren't we supposed to watch  _The Notebook_  or something?"

        A short bark of laughter. "I told you, Chloe, we are  _forgetting_  about romance. Now, let's watch shit blow up!"

        Chloe laughed in surprise. "There are explosions in  _The Fast and the Furious_?"

        Aubrey shrugged. "Beats me. We're about to find out!"

        As the blonde scurried off to her room, Chloe allowed herself to sink into the couch. She wiped her cheeks and allowed a slight smile as she thought of how lucky she was to have a friend like Aubrey. She couldn't imagine being alone in a horrible situation with nothing but her thoughts.

…

        Down the stairs, Beca could hear the garage opening as her mom returned home from work. She made no move to get out of her bed, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the cord on her headphones as the tinny sound of a muffled  _Bulletproof_  barely reached her ears. Her computer sat dark and powered down on her desk; not even her mixes could distract her at the moment, though she predicted she'd be needing their distraction power in the coming weeks.

        A few clunks sounded as her mom set her belongings down and readied for the evening. From the rustling, Beca guessed that tonight was take-out again; her mother had never been much of a cook, and on the days she worked late, it was too much of a hassle to even bother with. "Beca!" her mom called up the stairs. "Dinner's here!"

        Yep, take-out. Swiping a hand across her cheeks, Beca made her way down the stairs, the palm of her right hand rubbing her eye as her bandages strained with the movement. "Coming," she said, stepping onto the first floor and turning the corner. She grabbed the smaller bag, knowing well-enough that it was her usual order from Taco Bell, and made her way to the kitchen table.

        As she unwrapped her food to begin to eat, her mom sat across from Beca with her own meal. "I found an apartment," Beca's mom said quietly, and Beca stopped chewing. She took a moment to swallow before giving her full attention to her mother. "It's a small place near the Emory University Hospital – you'll get the best cancer treatment in Atlanta as you can there, and it…it meets with your request."

        Beca nodded slowly. "That's – that's good. When can we leave?"

        Her mom sighed. "Any time, really. We'll need to start packing, and we'll have to find a place with storage units for everything that won't fit into the apartment. But you want it to seem natural, as if it's a job move, right?"

        "Yeah," Beca said softly. "I know that I can be treated well enough here, but thank you for listening to my request to move."

        "Of course, Beca." Her mother gazed at her, eyes starting to glisten. "I just...Are you really sure about this? Cutting all ties here and shipping out to Atlanta?"

        Beca gave a stiff nod. "Absolutely. If I – if I – if something happens, and I'm in Atlanta, then no one here will ever have to know. They'll think I moved, and lost contact, and that's that."

        "But what if something  _doesn't_  happen?" her mother suggested softly. "I'm hoping for the best, and I know you are too. There's no guarantee that anything will happen."

        "But if it  _does_ ," Beca insisted, "then I need this plan. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Mom, I can't – you  _know_  why I can't stay here, because if something  _does_ happen…." She trailed off, then looked anxiously at her mom. "It'll kill her," she whispered. "And after today, it'll kill her even more than I thought it would."

        Her mom looked puzzled. "After today…?" she inquired, eyes widening as Beca started to tear up.

        "She admitted she liked me, Mom," Beca said, her voice barely there. "She said she liked me." The raw hurt in her voice was enough to let her mom know everything that went unsaid, and it took no more than a moment for her to leave her seat and swiftly walk to Beca, wrapping her arms around her daughter as Beca closed her eyes and fought back memories of the day's earlier encounter.

        "Shhh," her mom murmured, "shhh. It's okay. It's okay."

…

        The school day passed uneventfully. Beca kept her head down and her eyes to the floor as she shuffled in and out of her classes. Brief glances let her know that Chloe was across the room, head averted from Beca's eyes much as Beca's head was from hers. The teachers droned on, but the normally studious Beca tuned them out, choosing instead to doodle music stanzas in the margins of her spiral.

        Visible in her hunched shoulders and her headphones that never left her head outside of class was a cloud of shame. It weighed on Beca with each step she took without Chloe by her side, and its presence was smothering. It constantly whispered through the blaring music that she was a coward, that she had hurt Chloe, and that maybe she deserved her fate. That maybe it had happened for a reason, because it wasn't as if she was a saint. Maybe it was the world's way of getting rid of a nuisance.

        The weight of yesterday's actions bore down on her as she considered how much of a truly terrible person she was, to make Chloe – kind, sweet, glowing, flawless – cry and run away. But the nagging picture of Chloe dressed in black and watching a small-cut coffin being lowered into the ground dispelled just a tiny bit of the shame.

        Because really, if Beca was such a monster for yesterday's actions, what demon would she be for causing the vision in her mind's eye?

…

        The school day passed uneventfully. Chloe kept her head up and eyes sparkling despite her inner turmoil as she greeted friends and acquaintances and strangers – all but one. She bounced into her classes, appearing as bubbly as always, but the moment she caught sight of Beca, slouched in the corner, her grin lessened just the tiniest bit, and her eyes dimmed just the slightest, and she ducked her head as she took a seat in the opposite corner of the room, averting her eyes from the tiny brunette who was clearly doing the same. The teachers droned on, but Chloe wasn't paying a particular amount of attention, not when her thoughts of yesterday plagued her mind.

        Visible in her guarded expression and hesitant movements was a cloud of shame. It weighed on Chloe with each step she took without Beca by her side, and its presence was smothering. She knew she shouldn't blame herself for feelings she couldn't control, but there was still the nagging doubt that it was her fault. That maybe she really had ruined everything, and maybe she deserved this separation from Beca if all she was doing was tearing apart their friendship.

        The weight of yesterday's actions bore down on her as she considered how much of a truly selfish person she was. Beca was clearly hurting from something, and Chloe had foolishly assumed that the best thing to do was force Beca to open up when the girl clearly didn't want to. And on top of that, she'd confessed her feelings in the worst way possible! Not only was Beca hurting, but now Chloe had added to the heap of problems that worried her friend!

        Because really, what kind of friend was Chloe if she forced her own feelings on Beca without any regard for the issues Beca might be facing?

…

        As the bus pulled away and Beca began to walk up the sidewalk, she frowned as she noticed an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway.  _What an asshole_ , she thought, wondering who would be rude enough to park in a stranger's driveway. Unfortunately, she didn't notice said asshole open the car door and step outside.

        Beca was just inserting her key in the lock and opening the door when a voice sounded behind her. "Beca," it rumbled, deep and agonizingly familiar. Whirling around, Beca dropped her bag and stared wide-eyed at the man standing a few feet away, his arms held out in an offer of peace. "It's been a while, hasn't it, my little Becs?"

        As the man shifted, waiting nervously for an answer, all Beca could do was gape. A moment passed, and then another, and finally, Beca uttered the first words to her dad in five years. "Are you fucking kidding me."

        His brow creased, and he gave her a stern glare. "Don't use that kind of language with me," he admonished.

        Beca was still stunned. She blinked a few times as her mouth moved, trying to form more words. "What – what are you doing here? Why are you here?"

        Her dad's eyes softened, and Beca winced. "You know why," he said quietly, taking a step forward. "May I come inside?"

        Glancing warily, Beca nodded her head slowly and stepped into the parlor, but made no move to allow him farther into the house as he crossed the threshold. "How did you find out?" she asked at last.

        "Your mother," he said simply. Beca's eyes narrowed, and he held up his hands in defense. "She thought I should know! And she was right. Beca – " he reached a hand out to cup her cheek, but she pushed him away – "I'm so sorry. I never realized anything like this could happen. My father had cancer, but never in a million years did I think – "

        "Just stop, okay?" Beca muttered, crossing her arms. "So?"

        A pause. "What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

        "So? I'm sick, yadda yadda, we get it. Why are you here?"

        "Because I wanted to see you." His eyes shimmered in bewilderment. "Why else?"

        "Oh, ha, great! This week has just been  _perfect_! I get to shave my  _head_ , I have to reject the feelings of the girl I'm in  _love with_ , and my dad decides to appear after  _five freaking years_!" Beca gave him a mocking smile.

        Her dad's eyes widened almost comically for a moment as he processed everything his daughter said. She raised an eyebrow when his expression suddenly grew puzzled. "You're gay?" he asked, and Beca snorted. Of all the things to ask about.

_If he'd been here the last five years, he'd have known that_ , she thought bitterly. "No shit, Dad," she answered.

        "Language, Beca!"

        Beca's jaw clenched. "Oh no. Okay, no. You do  _not_  get to come in here after five years and pretend that you're my dad again."

        He immediately backpedalled in an attempt to recover from her scathing comment. "Beca – "

        She cut him off. "Like, really? I'm supposed to just welcome you with open arms? Break down in sobs and cry about my situation?"

        Frowning, Beca's dad shook his head. "Beca, this is hard on me too, and – "

        "Oh! I'm sorry!" Beca's voice was rising with her anger. "Am I supposed to throw you a pity party? 'Oh no, the poor man has a dying daughter!' How do you think it feels to be  _said dying daughter_?"

        "I just wanted to be here for you – "

        "Then where were you the last  _five fucking years_!" Beca shouted, stomping her foot.

        "Language!" He seemed just as angry, obviously stunned that the little girl he'd seen last had turned into this rebellious teen.

        "I don't  _give a fuck_!" Beca snarled. "Because you know what? I've got  _six months of my life left_. Or, no, I guess it's five now, right?"

        "You don't know that – "

        "Don't know what? That I'll die?" she asked incredulously. "Well, guess what! I have a better chance of winning a fucking  _coin toss_  than I do of celebrating Christmas this year! How do you  _think_  that makes me feel?"

        "I – "

        "Just get the hell out of my house. You don't live here. You don't belong here. And you're _certainly_  not wanted here. I'll see you again at my funeral. Good-bye." With a shove, Beca sent her dad back over the threshold and slammed the door in his face. Her mouth was practically frothing in anger as she seethed, snatching her bag and storming up to her room.

        How  _dare_  he! How.  _Dare he_! How dare he waltz back into her life as if he still had a say! Throwing her bag to the floor of her room, Beca flopped onto her bed, grinding her teeth as she fought the urge to scream into her pillow.

        Twisting around, she reached for her music and slipped the familiar headphones over her ears, scrolling through her playlists to find the angriest songs she knew, letting the rage – at her father, herself, and the world – wash through her.

…

        She could hear the pounding on her bedroom door loud and clear over the music blasting in her ears. Her mom was shouting her name, pleading her to please come out of the room and talk, but Beca was really not in the mood, not when she knew that her mother had invited her dad in when she arrived home.

        At the moment, Beca was supposed to be heading off to another doctor's appointment, but she really didn't feel like it. Not after such a shitty day. So she artfully ignored her mother and cranked up the volume of her music. The sheer noise was starting to cause a bit of a headache, but it was worth it to drown out the much less welcome scolding and beratements sure to come.

        "I'm not going to the appointment!" she shouted over the yelling and the music in her ears, before settling down more comfortably between the pillows on her bed, and closing her eyes as she lost herself in music.

…

        After much poking and prodding – and a skeleton key – Beca had at last been persuaded to join her mother and father for dinner. She sat awkwardly, spinning her spaghetti absently on her fork as she began to review a few recent ideas she'd had for mixes. A few of them seemed promising as she attempted to match the two songs in her head as a mental test-run.

        The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Beca from her reverie, and she raised an eyebrow as her dad gained her and her mom's attention. "I, uh, I wanted to apologize, Beca, for what I said earlier today. I know this is hard on you, and I know I'm not exactly in a position to – "

        "No, you're  _not_  in a position to tell me what to do," Beca cut in with a scoff. "You walked in as if you still lived here, as if you hadn't  _left us_  over  _five years_  ago!"

        He flinched, as did her mother. "I know, Becs, but please, understand that that was a tough time for your mother and me."

        Her mom nodded. "It was for the best," she said. "Your father" – she sent him a pointed glare – "did some things that split us apart."

        "You mean he fucked his secretary," Beca drawled, fighting a grin as her mother blanched and her father's face turned beet red.

        "I – I – " he spluttered, jaw to the ground in shock.

        Beca's mom cut in in an attempt to repair the situation. "We were also growing apart," she said, "and our split was only natural."

        Beca laughed harshly. "Please! Don't try to justify his actions!"

        "Look, Beca, I know what I did was wrong," her dad began, visibly struggling to remain calm, "but what's done is done. Your mother and I are no longer together, and I am now married to a new woman I love very much."

        "Was she the secretary you fucked?"

        "Do not use that language at the dinner table!" her dad roared, a vein popping in his forehead as he glared at his daughter.

        Her mother sank into her chair as Beca chortled. "Can't be that good in bed if you've still got such anger issues, huh?"

        "That's –  _you_ – " His rage was preventing him from forming coherent sentences as Beca smirked in response. "You have  _no right_  to say such things to me!"

        "Sorry, sorry." Beca's grin grew wider as she gave him a mockingly sympathetic look. "I get it, sexual frustration's a bitch."

        He opened his mouth, clearly ready to shout, when Beca's mom cut in. "That's enough, both of you! Warren, I will talk to you later, because the facts are that you  _were_  gone for years, and Beca has grown into a young woman."

        "Clearly you've done a  _wonderful_  job on raising her," he retorted sarcastically.

        Standing up abruptly, Beca dropped her fork to her plate with a clang. "Okay, no. Don't you _dare_  insult the way that Mom's raised me! At least she cared enough to  _stick around_!"

        " _Stop it, both of you_! Warren, not another word. Beca, go to your room," her mother commanded, pointing up the stairs.

        Beca snorted. "Yeah, fine, take the side of the man who  _cheated on you_!"

        "I'm  _not_  taking his side! What I  _am_  going to do is fill him in on the past five years he missed, and get him focused on far more important matters, such as your  _brain tumor_."

        Freezing, Beca glared at her mom, anger flaring in her eyes. "Oh, great, let's bring up the fact that I'm dying _. Lovely_  conversation topic!"

        "Room.  _Now_." Her mother pointed her finger imperiously up the stairs. "Warren,  _not a word_."

        As Beca stomped up the stairs, she could hear her mother begin to scold her father over his behavior, wincing as their voices grew in volume. She slammed the door shut and jammed her headphones on, thinking bitterly,  _Just like old times_.

…

        Thursday passed much the same as Wednesday for Chloe. She found herself talking with students she hadn't ever greeted before, and she couldn't deny that she'd made a few new friends now that she no longer spent all of her time with Beca. But that's all they were; friends. Not best friends, not crushes, and most importantly, not  _Beca_.

        The small girl looked even more sullen than normal today as she glowered at the whiteboards, but no matter how much Chloe was tempted to approach her, Aubrey's advice echoed in her head. One week. Six days, from this point. That was all. And then she'd approach Beca, and hopefully they'd get everything sorted out and go straight back to being friends. That was plausible, right?

        Oh, how Chloe hoped.

…

        In all honesty, the store was creepy. Really creepy. Beca couldn't keep from giving wary glances to the mannequin heads perched on the shelves around her, varying cuts and colors of hair decorating each of them. Wrinkling her nose, Beca turned away and focused on the cashier's desk in the center of the store, not envying the workers who were stuck in here for hours in the slightest.

        After a call to Doctor Krebs, this shop had been recommended, and now Beca was standing uncomfortably with her mother as a roaming sales assistant took notice of their plight. "Hi, how may I help you?" he greeted, straightening his uniform shirt.

        Beca gave her mom a sidelong glance in indication that she was to be the one to do the talking. They'd managed to reach neutral territory the night before after her dad had left to stay in a nearby hotel, but the friendliness they'd gained in the past few weeks was now replaced with frigid tension. "Hi," her mother responded, "we're looking for a wig for my daughter here. I believe we placed a call yesterday about one Beca Mitchell?"

        "Give me a moment, ma'am, and I'll be right with you," he said, scampering off to the desk and scrolling through some files on his computer. Once he found the information he needed, he came right back. "One Beca Mitchell, in need of a wig to replace required hair loss?" He looked to Beca's mom for confirmation. She nodded. "Right. Then come with me, and I'll show you the stock we have that best match your daughter's hair color. You requested synthetic, correct?"

        "Yes," her mother replied. Wigs were far more complicated than Beca had originally anticipated, and far more expensive, so she told her mom that she'd be perfectly fine getting a cheaper, synthetic wig, in comparison to a wig made from real human hair. What she didn't admit was that the thought of wearing someone else's hair sent shudders down her spine. Synthetic would do.

        "Here we are!" the sales assistant announced, sweeping his arm out to the varying array of browns situated firmly on creepy mannequin heads. "Let me know if you need anything else."

        A good thirty minutes was spent perusing the different offers. Beca held up her hair to compare to each wig, trying to find the absolute closest match to her own color. At last, she settled on a decent-length wig that almost identically matched the color of her own hair. She'd have it trimmed to match her face tomorrow at the salon, but she pushed the thought of her appointment there tomorrow out of her mind. She had one more day with a full head of hair. That was it. One more day.

…

        It was Friday afternoon, and the salon was, thankfully, fairly empty. As Beca hesitantly approached the desk, a bag holding her wig clutched in her hand, one of the ladies working greeted her kindly and led her to her seat. Her mother made herself comfortable in the waiting area as Beca was placed in the barber's chair.

        "You're Beca Mitchell, correct?" she asked softly, her voice laced with pity that Beca tried hard not to bristle at.

        She answered, "Yeah."

        "And you have your wig?"

        "Mhm."

        "Okay, then," the stylist said. "Well, I'll begin by cutting and shaving your head, and then we'll try on your wig, and I'll do my best to match it up to your current style. Does that sound okay?"

        "Yeah, whatever," Beca muttered.

        "Would you like your hair to be donated to wigs for cancer patients?"

        Beca couldn't control the harsh laugh that bubbled from her throat. "Yeah," she sneered, "do that. Ironic, isn't it?"

        The stylist only gazed sadly before beginning her work. After a few attempts at amiable conversation from the stylist and pointed silence in reply from Beca, no more words were said.

        The snip of the scissors was deafening in Beca's ears as she watched her hair fall on the floor, clumps and strands of what was once hers lying broken and lifeless on the ground. When the razor was turned on, and its drone filled the air, Beca tried her hardest not to flinch when the cool metal ran across her scalp, efficiently eliminating every last trace of hair from her head.

        At last, the stylist was done, and Beca swallowed past the lump in her throat as she looked at the broken girl reflected in the mirror, the one with the thin face and dull eyes and bald head.

        The stylist reached into Beca's bag to grab the wig and fit it onto the younger girl's head, but her comforting words didn't reach Beca's ears as she stared into the mirror, lost in her reflection.

…

        A twist of the knob and the water was running, clear warmth on porcelain tile. Beca slipped her clothes off and stood for a moment, back home in her bathroom after the day's draining appointment. Her body moved as if to step in the tub before a realization hit her, and she hesitated, fighting to keep a calm expression despite no one being around to witness her struggle.

        She sniffed, and reached a hand up to her head. Gently, she curled her fingers around the hair and lifted it. The wig came away in her hand, and she stood there, holding the falsity in a sweating palm. Beca threw it haphazardly on the floor, on top of her pile of clothes – it was an accessory much like everything else.

        Turning the nozzle on, Beca stepped inside and let the water wash over her, shivering as it ran over her bare scalp. She held up a shaking hand to touch the exposed skin, then gritted her teeth, snarling at the world.

        Clutching her head in her hands, she leaned against the wall, eyes screwed shut as her fingers gripped the newly bare skin and her mind attempted to pass the tears flowing down her face as water from the shower's steady stream.


	7. That Words Now Have More Meaning Such as When and Why and What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about damn time.
> 
> I could throw out all sorts of excuses for extending my hiatus longer than I'd intended, but mostly it was a combination of writer's block, busy schedules, and sheer laziness. (Emphasis on the laziness.) However, I'm back, and updates will be getting on a fairly regular schedule again from here on out. How does that sound?
> 
> Anyway, this chapter's not horribly eventful, but it does tie a lot of things together. For one, we're finally starting to see some of the treatment process for the cancer. We also get to see the rebuilding of Beca's relationships with her parents. The key focus of this fic is not so much the cancer as it is how the cancer - and Beca's subsequent decisions regarding it - affect her relationships with those closest to her. While it's damaged her relationship with Chloe, it's actually helped Beca to get closer to her family.
> 
> Just to clarify one thing: Beca's dad was an ass last chapter, yes, but keep in mind that this fic is written from either Beca's or Chloe's POV. And Beca's not going to view Warren in an overly favorable light. Hopefully your opinion of him changes a little after this chapter. Yeah, he's screwed up, but he's really not such a bad guy, I promise.
> 
> On a side note, there's a fair bit of throwing up and awkward silences in this chapter, and I'm not entirely sure why.
> 
> I am not an expert on cancer. I tried to do my best in regards to the research on chemotherapy (I actually need to go back and correct something said in an earlier chapter), but I've no doubt that I messed up some facts. The drugs named were said to be used for brain cancer, but likely they're just general ones, and not the specifics that would be required in this case. If anybody actually knows the details of this stuff, feel free to let me know.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for sticking with me after all this time!

_**And Really, It's No Surprise** _

_****_

_Chapter Six:_

__

_That Words Now Have More Meaning Such as When and Why and What_

The tingling in her palms and the tightness in her chest had only intensified as the minutes of the morning ticked by. This was no seizure, though; just unadulterated fear.

Beca was trying very hard not to be scared, but she was failing spectacularly. She was well aware that the side effects were really not so terrible, and that most of them were unlikely to occur. She was also well aware that this treatment was her only chance at living, and she'd be damned if she didn't try it.

But despite her awareness, she still couldn't stop the sweat growing on her palms as she discreetly wiped them against her pants; nor could she abate the fear that swam in her mind. She'd never been terribly fond of hospitals in the first place, and being strapped to a chair was doing a fairly pisspoor job at changing that.

This was  _not_  how she wished her Saturday morning to be spent.

For the moment, nothing much was happening. Beca was sitting in a rather comfortable chair (of which she certainly was not expecting), and her right arm was extended on the arm rest. An electric heat pad was wrapped around it, and though she was told not to move too much, Beca found herself finding it very hard to resist the urge to fidget with the device.

She'd only been in the hospital for about fifteen minutes or so, but already Beca was growing bored and restless, especially as her anxiety for the actual treatment began to ramp up as the minutes ticked past.

It would only take a minute or so more, the doctors had said, before they could finally start administering the drugs. God, was Beca  _not_  ready for that.

For the moment, though, Doctor Krebs was doing something called "cannulation"; really, it was just a fancy term for "I'm going to insert this tube into your body and pump you full of drugs". The heat pad was making her veins more visible, or something like that. Most of the terms and procedure flew right over Beca's head.

For god's sake, just because she had cancer did not suddenly mean she wanted to be an oncologist (another word she'd never known before now).

"I think we're ready." Doctor Krebs' voice interrupted Beca's mental tirade, and she glanced warily at the doctor. "Now, I'm going to hook the tube attached to the cannula to this pump right here, which will control the flow of drugs and alert us when the bag runs out."

"You're leaving the room?" Beca asked, somewhat alarmed.

Doctor Krebs smiled calmly. "We won't be here the whole time, that's true. There are other patients in the hospital to attend to, and you won't be needing on-the-clock care – don't worry, there's no danger, and we'll be in and out every hour to check on you and the drugs. Okay?"

Beca nodded, still not entirely comfortable with the idea. "Um, yeah, sure."

"Would you like me to get your mom?"

"Nope I'm good," Beca hastily spluttered. Ever since her mom had told her dad about Beca's cancer, their relationship, which had finally started to patch up, was rocky once more, and Beca most certainly didn't want the awkward silence that would come of her mom being in the room. "Can I listen to my music, though?"

"Yes, of course," Doctor Krebs said. "Do you have it with you?"

"My mp3's in my pocket, and I've got some earbuds in there too." Beca reached down with her left hand and pulled it out, fumbling a bit without the aid of her right. After inserting the earbuds, she kept the music off so she could continue to listen to Doctor Krebs until the medicine started.

"Now that your vein's available, we're going to give you a quick flush of saline. This is just going to keep the vein open for us while you take your pre-meds." Doctor Krebs reached for the trey beside the hanging bag. "We just need you to take these two anti-sickness pills, and some Benadryl. Since it appears you have no allergies to any of the medications we've prescribed, there's no need for anything else." Grabbing a small plastic bag, she handed two white pills, a pink Benadryl, and a glass of water to the seated Beca.

Eyeing them distrustfully, Beca did as she was told and swallowed the medicine, before handing the glass back to Doctor Krebs. "Good," said the doctor. "And now we'll begin the drug administration."

...

Procarbazine.

...

Saline flush.

...

Lomustine.

...

Saline flush.

...

Vincristine.

...

Saline flush.

...

The park was always pleasantly empty on Saturday mornings, a fact Chloe had learned long ago to take advantage of. There was nothing more calming than a light jog through dew-sparkling grass and green boughs overhead. Dawn's early rays filtered through the trees as the steady thump of sneakers on pavement accompanied her.

Even when her thoughts swam in chaos, the park managed to soothe her, and for these precious few moments, Chloe was unburdened and free.

But the moment was fleeting (as most moments are), and Chloe found herself with unwelcome thoughts creeping back into her mind, unwanted tendrils of self-hatred and doubt weaving a net of fear and uncertainty in her mind.

Pausing a moment to catch her breath, Chloe shut her eyes and shook her head, not wanting to think about that one person she was trying very hard not to think about. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and absentmindedly pulled out her phone to check the time.

The phone sat comfortably in her palm, and for a brief moment Chloe forgot herself, and a familiar press on the screen led her to staring at her contacts list, the most prominent name being that one person she was  _really_ trying not think about.

That one person who probably hated her, was disgusted with her, felt betrayed by her.

_"How could you have feelings for me? We're just friends! Congratulations, you've ruined everything. Everything we ever had together is ruined, and it's_ all. Your. Fault _."_

Chloe couldn't tell any more if the voice spitting words at her was Beca's or her own, but it didn't matter, because those words stung all the same. She hastily turned her phone off, shoved it in her pocket, and set off at a much brisker pace than before.

_Step. Step. Breathe. Keep jogging. Keep jogging._

_Don't think. Don't think. Don't think._

And when at last Chloe reached her house, she found that the exhaustion from the run couldn't hold a candle to the fatigue of her thoughts.

…

The distinct smell of alcohol woke a drowsy Beca – at some point, she must have dozed off. Wrinkling her nose against the odor (from the excessive use of alcohol swabs in order to wipe the equipment, as explained earlier), she closed her eyes again as a sudden wave of nausea hit her. She gripped the armrest firmly as the wave passed, thankfully without feeling the need to expel all of the contents in her stomach.

Doctor Krebs was watching her as Beca opened her eyes once more and gave the doctor a weak smile. Taking her earbuds out, Beca asked, "How'd it go?"

The doctor grinned. "Wonderfully. We'll have to wait a few days before we start to see the effects, but there were no averse reactions, and everything was administered properly. With luck, in a few days, we should start seeing your tumor reduce. It will only be a little bit, but if we keep working at it, we can get it down to a manageable size, and then surgery will be an option."

"You make it sound as if the situation's not nearly as bad as before."

The grin fell. Doctor Krebs sighed. "Your situation is still grave, so do not mistake my enthusiasm for a sudden change in your condition." Beca grimaced. "However," the doctor continued, "this is the first step to your recovery, and if everything continues as it has, you've got a fighting chance. Just hang in there – we're doing everything we can to fight this tumor."

Beca nodded slowly. She supposed it was a little naïve of her to suddenly think that the chemotherapy had cured her, but she couldn't really be blamed for grasping on to every piece of hope she received, especially as she'd been receiving so little.

"Now," said the doctor, "I'm going to go fetch your mother, and we'll go over your schedule again in more detail. Sit tight here for a moment."

Beca raised an eyebrow as Doctor Krebs motioned to leave the room. "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere," she retorted, and cracked a smile as the doctor laughed on her way out.

…

For once in her life, Chloe found herself aggravated that her teachers had assigned very little homework. Yes, it was only the first week of school, but couldn't she at  _least_  have gotten an essay?

Because, yet again, she found her mind wandering back to thoughts of Beca, and that wouldn't do at all. Her homework had been a good enough distraction, but finishing it took only so long, and now that everything was completed, Chloe stared helplessly at her desk and fought her rising thoughts.

Next Tuesday. That would be one full week, and then she'd confront Beca again. But for now, the last thing she wanted was to dwell on what happened this past week.

Booting up her computer, Chloe began to idly scroll through her Facebook page. A notification in the corner caught her eye, and she clicked on it. The page opened to show that she'd been invited to some party this evening.

About to press the decline button, Chloe paused. Normally, she wasn't one for outlandish parties, but perhaps this was just the distraction she needed.

Another moment passed, and Chloe clicked the 'Accept' button and leaned back in her chair. Looked like she now had plans for the night.

Stretching her arms and standing up, she walked to her closet and began to sift through her clothes to find something appropriate.

…

"So, we'll continue with bi-weekly chemotherapy appointments, and on Monday, we'll start administering the radiation treatments. Those will be every afternoon, Monday through Friday. Any questions?"

Beca blinked rapidly in an effort to keep herself awake after the long explanation over various things that she was pretty sure were important. At least her mom paid attention. Yay for moms.

"No questions, thank you. For now, I'll just concentrate on getting Beca home and letting her get some rest. I'm sure you're exhausted, aren't you Beca?" Her mom turned towards her daughter.

Nodding slowly, Beca yawned. "Yeah, I'm beat. Let's go home."

As Beca walked out the door, she caught her mind quietly asking something about "side effects" or whatever. But Beca wasn't terribly worried. They couldn't be that bad, surely.

…

_FUCK, SHE WAS WRONG. SHE WAS SO WRONG ABOUT THE SIDE EFFECTS._

As she heaved once more into the toilet, Beca's head began to pound with a sudden raging headache. Of fucking course. The headache wasn't even related to the chemo, it was just her body deciding "Hey! We know you're suffering from the side effects of your recovery, so we'll kick your cancer into gear as well, and make it double the fun!"

"Fuuuuuck," she moaned, and retched again. Her wig lay discarded to her right, to keep it clean, and for once, she was glad she didn't have to worry about her hair getting in the way.

A timid knock sounded on the door, and the voice of Beca's mom drifted through. "Do you need any help in there?"

"No, I'm doing just dandy," Beca retorted scathingly.

The doorknob twisted as her mom stepped inside and knelt down by her daughter. Her hands began to rub Beca's shoulders as another wave of nausea hit Beca. Another heave, and another.

At last, Beca was certain that all of the contents of her stomach had been expelled, and her mom offered her a paper towel. Smiling weakly, Beca took the towel and wiped off her mouth, then stood up with the support of her mom.

"I'll be right back," Beca's mom said, disappearing for a moment only to return with a full of glass of water. "Rinse and spit, and then I'll get you a glass just for drinking."

Her mom continued to rub her shoulders as Beca swished the water around in her mouth, thankful at last to be rid of the foul taste. Once everything was gone, her mom was true to her word and brought her another cup of water just for drinking. Beca gratefully accepted and began to sip, throat parched after its ordeal.

They both walked out into the living room and sat down on the couch, each at opposite ends. A few moments of awkward silence passed before Beca swallowed her water and let out a loud exhale. Her mom turned in surprise, and Beca bit her lip and steeled her nerves. "I'm sorry," she blurted out.

Beca's mom tilted her head. "For throwing up? That's a normal side effect, there's nothing to apologize for."

"No, no, no." Beca shook her head quickly. "For the other day. For blowing up at you and Dad. I shouldn't have done that – well, at least not to you. I still kinda think he deserved it."

A small smile graced the face of Beca's mom. "No, you're right, he did." Beca snorted in surprise. "But you don't need to apologize to me. I haven't been the greatest parent for a few years now, and I deserved that."

"No," Beca whispered quietly, then raised her voice. "No, you didn't. You didn't deserve that. I was angry at Dad, and I kind of retaliated at you as well. And don't sell yourself short on the parenting thing."

"But Beca, I  _haven't_  been here for you. After the divorce, things got distant between us, and I never did anything to fix it."

"Then I'd say we're both at fault here." Beca quirked a half-smile.

But her mom was less accepting of that statement. "No, the distance is not your fault. I failed you as a parent, and I'm still failing you as a parent, but do you think maybe we could try and change that?"

The couch sank beneath Beca's weight as she shifted and moved onto the middle cushion. She wrapped one arm around her mom and pulled her into an awkward, yet intensely gratifying, hug. Her mom's arms circled around her and held her there, and Beca's muffled voice answered, "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

…

The ground reverberated with the dull pounding of blasting bass as the night air vibrated from music played far too loud. All doors and windows of the house were shut, but the sound leaking through was by no means faint, and Chloe almost turned around right then and there; the last thing she needed was a headache on top of the rest of her troubles.

Still, the whole point of coming here in the first place was to relax –

_and forget_

\- and she sighed as she took a step towards the door. She was here, so she might as well head in. What was the harm?

Opening the front door, she winced as the previously muffled wall of sound hit her full-on. A writhing mass of teenage bodies greeted her sight as she stepped inside. A mesh of flailing limbs and drunken children was hardly an ideal image, but Chloe ignored it, skirting around the furniture-cleared, student-filled living room and making a beeline for the (hopefully) quieter kitchen.

A few greetings were called out as she passed, and she smiled and nodded and pretended like this was a great idea and clearly the best thing she could be doing on a Saturday night.

Warm memories of slightly burnt popcorn, hot chocolate, and Youtube music videos flooded her mind, and Chloe shook her head. The entire purpose of tonight was to  _forget_. All she wanted was a moment of respite, a moment not filled with self-loathing and turmoil and sheer confusion.

Slipping into the kitchen, Chloe reached out absentmindedly to grab one of the waiting plastic red cups. She took a sip as she wandered back into the living room, and wrinkled her nose as the taste of alcohol washed over her tongue. Grimacing, she pulled the cup away from her lips, and held it at arms-length, studying it thoughtfully. She'd tried alcohol before, certainly, but not in such a wild, uncontrolled environment.

In the back of her mind, she knew that this was a stupid idea, but her entire purpose tonight was to loosen up and forget.

_Eh. What the hell._

With a shrug, Chloe dipped her head and downed the cup, the alcohol burning her throat as it made its way down.

Once the cup was empty, she set it down on a dresser, grinning as she felt a pleasant buzz start to worm its way into her thoughts.

Perhaps one more wouldn't hurt.

...

Beca wrapped the blankets closer around her as she shifted to get more comfortable. Her mom's laugh still echoed in the air after a silly story she'd told her about the time Chloe and Beca had to fend off a ferocious puppy to keep their picnic lunch safe from harm.

Sighing contently, Beca yawned. It was only nine or so at night, but despite an afternoon nap, she'd been feeling fatigued all day long, and she figured it was about time to hit the sack.

Beca's mom caught on as well, and she stood up to leave. As she reached the door, she paused, and looked back at Beca. "You know…maybe you should give your father another chance."

Beca frowned. "Mom!"

"Just…try it, please. You gave me another chance, and I'm so grateful for it. Maybe all he needs is a second chance too." Her mom's were soft and pleading, and Beca huffed.

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly, "but at least make sure I get something out of meeting with him."

Laughing, Beca's mom suggested, "Will ice cream do?"

"Ice cream will do just fine."

As Beca's mom flicked the lights off, she said a soft "Good night" and padded away.

"G'night," Beca called out in response, before snuggling deeper into her comforter. It had been a long and hard day, and she had a feeling that it was only going to get harder as time passed, but for now, at the very least, she had something good to cling onto.

For the first time in weeks, Beca found herself drifting off with a smile on her face.

…

Chloe wasn't entirely sure if the room was spinning, or if she was spinning, or both, but overall it was quite fun. She laughed as her partner spun her around, and gripped his sides to steady herself. "You're a very good dancer," she slurred, beaming at Joe…Josh…Jackson….Something like that.

He laughed and replied in a voice nearly as intoxicated, "You're a verrry good dancer too!" He lifted her hands and twisted her around, placing his own hands on her waist as he started to grind against her.

Giggling, she began to move with him, rolling her hips against his, the friction sending an extra jolt of energy to the already hyped Chloe. Her vision blurred into a wash of bright colors and thriving teenagers. Drunken shouts and laughs could be heard even over the roaring music, which consisted of some mix of Kanye songs. Chloe almost shook her head at how pathetic the mix was in comparison to what Beca could come up with.

_Beca Beca Beca, why Beca, why are you ignoring me? Why can't you like me back? It's not like I can heeelp it! All I want is you! All I want is Beca Beca Beca._  Her eyes glazed over as her mind swirled with drunken thoughts of her love for Beca, and really, why  _didn't_  Beca like her back?

"I'm pretty, right?" she asked Joey.

"Yes, you're so pretty!" he answered, still dancing to the beat of the inferior music mix.

"I'm dateable, right?"

"Uh huh, very dateable." Joshua spun her around to face him as the music ended, and they tittered as the song turned to a slower one.

Chloe sighed as she moved her feet and narrowly avoided bumping into other partygoers. "I jus' don't understand," she admitted, pouting very obviously.

"What's wrong, babe?" Jason asked, leaning in.

She gave him her best doe eyes. "The person I like doesn't like me back."

"Oh no, that sucks so much."

"I know, right?" Chloe rested her head on his shoulder. "I just don't get it."

"If it helps, I think you're very hot," John said, his face incredibly serious as he nodded along with his statement. "Very hot. I'd totally date you."

"Well thank you!" Chloe smiled brightly. "But you're not who I want. No one here is. Why can't I have the person I want?"

Jacob stepped towards Chloe and bent down until his lips were brushing her cheek. "Maybe I can substitute for one night?"

Pulling back, she mulled it over. Her thoughts were still hazy, and he was clearly as drunk as she was, but she was so beyond the point of caring. She stretched her neck out and smashed her lips to his.

He met her back just as forcefully, and their dancing was left forgotten as they greedily captured each other's lips in a heated kiss.

A heated kiss which was suddenly interrupted by a hand on her collar as Chloe was jerked backwards. Stumbling, she turned to face a livid Aubrey. "Hey Aubs, I didn't know you were coming tonight!" Chloe greeted, eyes reflecting her stupor.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't planning on it," Aubrey said snippily, continuing to yank Chloe by her collar as she dragged her through the crowd.

Chloe whined as Aubrey dragged her away. "Noooo, I was having fun!"

"You won't be having fun in the morning," Aubrey mumbled under her breath, finally reaching the front door and shoving Chloe into the cool night air. They quickly crossed the yard, and Aubrey opened her car door, grabbed Chloe, and forced the whining girl inside.

After shutting the door, she made her way to the driver's seat, revved the engine, and began to drive. Chloe pouted at this. "I don't get why you're making me leave."

Aubrey took one hand off the wheel to pinch her nose. "Chloe, you shouldn't have been there. That was stupid and reckless, okay?"

"I was just havin' some fuuuun!" Chloe drawled.

Eye twitching in anger, Aubrey said through gritted teeth, "Oh yeah, drunken makeout sessions. Always fun. Great idea, Chloe. Just brilliant."

"You don't approve," Chloe said with a pout. "Wasn't doin' any harm."

"And what if more had happened, huh?"

"Nothin' else was gonna happen. I was verrry careful!"

Chloe smacked into the window as Aubrey turned sharply into a parking lot off the side of the road. After she turned the car off, she looked straight at Chloe. "No. You were  _not_  careful. Dammit Chloe, you could have gotten hurt!"

"Johnny wouldn't have done that!" Chloe protested.

Aubrey stared in disbelief. "Okay, one, that was Jake. Two, he was just as drunk as you are, and probably paying just as much attention. Chloe, that was beyond stupid. Of all the dumbass ways for you to cope – "

"I wasn' coping! I was just de-stressing!"

Running a hand through her hair, Aubrey closed her eyes and exhaled softly. "Look, we're going back to my place. I'll call your parents and tell them you're sleeping over, and I'll get some Advil ready, because you're sure as hell going to need it in the morning. Does that sound okay?"

Chloe crossed her arms. "Fine. But you're still a meanie."

"Oh, you'll be singing a different tune in the morning," Aubrey muttered as she started the car once more.

…

_Oh god she was dying._

Chloe was dying and everything hurt.

Groaning, she rolled over and for a brief, cartoony moment, had the realization that she'd rolled over onto  _air_ , before she hit the ground with a thud. She groaned even louder and opened bleary eyes to see a smirking Aubrey standing over her.

Chloe groaned a third time and squinted against the lights of the house. "Too bright," she moaned.

"It's noon. Get used to it." Aubrey rolled her eyes as Chloe yet again groaned. Aubrey reached down and yanked Chloe to her feet, ignoring the noises of protest.

As Chloe attempted to stand without help, her stomach retaliated, and Chloe could almost feel her face going green. "Bathroom," she squeaked out, unable to move on her own.

"Bowl," Aubrey retorted, and shoved said object towards Chloe. The normally graceful redhead wobbled in place, but took the object and proceeded to complete the morning ritual of those with hangovers.

When at last everything was done, Aubrey sat Chloe back on the couch (where she must have crashed last night) and handed her a glass of water and an Advil. "Drink up. I'd bet money you need this right now."

"And you'd be right," Chloe grumbled, tossing the pill in her mouth followed by a gulp of water. "What happened last night? There was the party, and…oh. The party."

"Yeah," Aubrey said, giving Chloe an 'honestly-what-were-you-doing' look. "The party."

Chloe grimaced and held her head. "How bad was it?"

Shrugging, Aubrey pursed her lips. "I don't know, because I wasn't stupid enough to go. But I do know that when I found you, you were liplocked with Jake from freshman biology, and you were so drunk I couldn't tell if it was just alcohol, or if you'd somehow gotten a concussion."

Chloe closed her eyes and scrunched her face. "I'm sorry," she murmured, flashes of the previous night starting to come back to her. Damn, what had she been  _thinking_?

Aubrey sighed, and sat down next to Chloe on the couch. "Look, don't apologize. It wasn't your best idea, but it's over, and I understand why you did it. It's been a pretty shitty week, let's be honest here. I might very well have done the same if I was in your position."

Chloe scoffed. "You'd never have done what I did!"

"You're right, I wouldn't have," Aubrey said with a smirk. "But still. You're hurting, and you just wanted the pain to go away. I know that feeling."

Chloe glanced around the empty house and hung her head. "Yeah. You do, and I'm sorry I'm shoving all my problems on you when you've got your own stuff to worry about."

A hand cupped Chloe's chin, and you found herself looking into Aubrey's eyes. "Hey, chin up. My stuff is my stuff, and it's not so bad. Mom's taking Monday off, and Dad's coming back next week. Right now, I  _want_  to help you solve your problems. I hate seeing you hurt like this. So don't worry about me, Chlo, and focus on yourself. Promise me."

"Fine." Chloe smiled slightly, and wondered how she'd ever managed to find such an amazing friend. "I promise."

…

The awkward silence was almost more than Beca could bear. After yesterday's chemo, it was if all of the energy in her body had been sucked away. And yeah, ice cream was good and all, but sitting next to her dad on a park bench in total silence?

Not so fun.

Nibbling at her cone, Beca glanced over out of the corner of her eye and noticed her dad picking away at his ice cream with a spoon. Well, if they had one thing in common, it was their complete obstinacy in apologizing.

The day was warm, but the comforting shade of towering oaks made the park a good refuge from the summer heat. Dogs barked in the distance, and the laughs of children on the nearby playground provided a strangely comforting background noise.

As Beca watched, one little girl slid down the slide and into the waiting arms of a jubilant young man, who caught her and lifted her high in the air. Her laughter could be heard even from where she was sitting.

Sighing, Beca turned to her own father, and decided that maybe, it was about time she grew up.

"I'm sorry."

They both stared at each other, having uttered the same words at the exact same time. A bit flustered, Beca's dad coughed into his sleeve. "Um, well, you can go first," he offered.

Beca shook her head. "No, how about you go?"

"Uh, yes," he agreed. Another awkward moment of silence seemed ready to settle, before he cleared his throat and began to speak once again. "I…I have a lot to apologize for. For being a terrible father, for never being there, and for my behavior Wednesday night. I guess…I guess I always thought of you as the little, quiet Beca I knew when I left. And I missed so much since then, and I'm sorry. I missed your entire time in high school, your birthdays, your first crush, and  _you_. You've grown up since I last saw you. And I guess it was just hard for me to accept that you weren't the same girl I used to know. That I couldn't recognize you anymore."

He looked at her, eyes intense. "But I'm so, so proud of who you are now. Even in the last couple of days, I've seen that you're stronger than I've ever been. And I know you've been dealt a bad lot in life, and I know it's hard, but I have never seen anyone stand strong in the face of danger like you have. I let my anger get the best of me on Wednesday, and I can't take back what I said, but I want you to know, even if it doesn't mean anything, that I'm just so proud of the woman you've become."

Beca was stunned, and it showed clearly on her face. Blinking back a few tears, she smiled, and buried her face in his shoulder. "I've missed you," she whispered. "And I'm not sorry for the things I said, because you needed to hear that. But I  _am_  sorry for the way I said them, and for not realizing that maybe you had changed, just like I did."

"Thank you," he murmured, and his voice trembled with emotion.

A thought entered Beca's head, and she pulled away. Biting her lip, she pulled out her mp3 player. "I haven't had cancer  _all_ this time, you know."

Beca's dad laughed in disbelief at the strange comment. "No, no I imagine not."

"So, you know, I actually did some stuff."

He raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Beca offered one of her earbuds to her dad. "Want to hear one of the mixes I've made?"

As tears pricked at his eyes, his voice broke as he replied, "I think – I think I'd like that very much."


	8. That Death Courts Only the Suitors Unwilling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise?
> 
> Okay, so, am I an asshole? Yep. Should you all hate me? Probably. I'm officially that awful author who doesn't update for months and leaves you thinking they abandoned the story. That's me, and I fully accept responsibility for it. I'm not going to excuse it – I had plenty of opportunities to work on this, and I didn't. But I did promise, many months ago, that I would finish this fic, and I still fully intend to. (When is the next chapter going to come out? Hopefully faster than this one! But in all seriousness, I'm going to try to get the next one out within two weeks. I wont' promise anything, because you all have seen my track record, but I'll try.)
> 
> And here we are. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait, and I want to thank you all so much for sticking with me this whole time. Things in the story are definitely about to start picking up, so bear with the continued slow pace for just a little longer. I needed to get this to the time skip, and though it seems like it's just more confrontations, I really do need them in the story, to push it to where I want it to be in the end.
> 
> And in case anyone is worried, I do have a planned ending for this fic – I've had one since the very beginning. If anyone's actually curious, this story's set to have fourteen chapters (Prologue + 12 + Epilogue), so we're actually over halfway now. The story's going to really start rolling next chapter once Aubrey and Chloe start putting the pieces together.
> 
> In regards to the seizure (yes, spoiler) that will happen this chapter: I read a firsthand account of someone who, before it happened, found that they ended up focusing on one single thing, and they couldn't stop thinking about it, so that's where this comes from. As always, I am by no means an expert on cancer, and any research is based solely on Internet findings - if you are an expert, please feel free to correct me.

**And Really, It's No Surprise**

_Chapter Seven:_

_That Death Courts Only the Suitors Unwilling_

Working her jaw up and down, Beca rolled her eyes at the image in the mirror as she opened and closed her mouth, counting silently with each turn. She honestly thought the whole thing was a little ridiculous – who needs to exercise their  _jaw_? – but Doctor Krebs had told her that, after her first radiation treatment yesterday afternoon, it was a precaution in case the therapy messed with her mouth. Something like bone loss, or whatever. She'd said it wasn't likely, and Beca had bigger worries – like, well,  _living_  – than some possible  _jaw problem_ , but she did as she was told.

As she finished with the twentieth count, she cricked her neck. Her mind briefly flitted to yesterday's appointment – her first ever round of radiation therapy.

It wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't  _pleasant_ , but unlike the chemo, it only lasted roughly thirty minutes. They'd taken her into a small room with a really damn big machine, and had her lie beneath it – she'd felt a bit like a frog on a biology tray, with the machine looming over her. She'd been instructed to hold very still, and then they'd placed a  _head mask_  over her  _face_ , and Beca was still a bit ruffled over the fact that she hadn't been warned about this beforehand. (Doctor Krebs and her mother insisted that yes, she  _had_ been told, but Beca hadn't really been in the mood to admit her lack of attention because they'd just  _put a mask over her head_.)

But she'd only had to lie still, twiddle her thumbs, and then it was over and she was sent home. According to the doctor, she'd be having these appointments every weekday afternoon, from four thirty to five, but she'd live (now  _there_  was an ironic saying). She could feel a few of the effects, like straight up exhaustion, but they were nowhere near the degree of the  _I'm-in-a-living-hell_  side effects chemotherapy had so kindly bestowed upon her.

Grabbing her wig, Beca settled it gently on her head and adjusted it until she looked mostly normal, and then left the bathroom and made her way down the stairs, palms touching the railing slightly as she found even this simple task was capable of wearing her out.

The fatigue had been hitting her hard since the chemo, and Beca wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to make it through a whole school day without falling asleep, but she'd be damned if she didn't try her hardest.

Grabbing her usual breakfast – and bypassing the glasses in favor of a plastic cup – Beca sat down at the table and traced her fingers over the lines on her right arm; there was to be no scarring, thankfully, and the bandages had already been removed, but they served as a very visible reminder with each glance of Beca's condition.

Might as well have spelled "I have cancer" with the damned things. Beca grunted, bit into her Poptart, and looked away.

…

It was Tuesday.

Today was Tuesday.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe leaned herself against the bathroom counter and squared her shoulders. She stared straight into her reflection's eyes, a silent confidence booster. "You can do this," she whispered under her breath. "You can do this."

Chloe was terrified. Chloe was beyond terrified.

At eight years old, she'd jumped off a cliff over one hundred feet tall into the ocean after a dare by her brothers.

At twelve, she'd hopped the fence into Old Man Gregory's backyard and braved his bear of a dog in order to retrieve a tennis ball they weren't willing to pay five dollars to replace.

At sixteen, she'd stalled her car in the middle of the freeway, gave a ferocious kick to her dashboard, stared death in the face, and somehow, miraculously, started the engine and avoided a disastrous wreck.

But this? Confronting Beca, determining once and for all if the girl she loved even wanted to be part of her life anymore?

This was so,  _so_  much worse.

Chloe had never been more terrified in her life.

Taking another deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth – Chloe slumped her shoulders and brushed a stray piece of red hair from her face. She bit her lip, steadied herself, and whispered one last "You can do this" before marching out the door with a confidence as false as her smile.

…

Aubrey was there to meet her. Chloe had originally insisted that she could do this on her own, but Aubrey had seen right through her act, and in all honesty, Chloe was grateful. There was no way she could do this without some moral support, and she was so grateful she had a friend like Aubrey, a friend who lent her strength with a steady nod and a small smile.

Holding her arm out, Aubrey gestured for Chloe to take the additional help, and Chloe gladly accepted, grasping the blonde's hand in her own. Aubrey gave her a reassuring squeeze before releasing once more and turning towards the school's swinging doors and bustling hallways. "We find Beca, we deliver the meeting time, and we leave. That's it. Think you can manage that?"

Chloe took a shaky breath. "Yeah," she said, "yeah. I think I can manage that."

"Good." Aubrey punctuated the word with a quick, one-armed hug, and Chloe felt at least a small bit of tension leave her.

"Remind me to treat you when this is all over."

Aubrey shook her head. "Remind me to treat  _you_."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe found herself unintentionally smiling. "You're the best friend in the world, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do." Aubrey sniffed haughtily, before adding a sly wink.

A giggle burst from Chloe's lips, and she saw Aubrey's own curl up into a relieved smile. Taking another deep breath, Chloe stood tall and braced herself for the upcoming conversation.

…

Oh.  _Shit_.

Beca glanced wildly about as two very familiar faces set in very determined lines strode down the hallway straight towards her. Unable to move against the throng of milling high school students, Beca was about to dart into the nearest classroom in a last ditch effort of self-preservation, but suddenly the aforementioned faces were very much in front of her and very much angry.

Well, Aubrey looked angry.

To be fair, Aubrey always looked angry.

Backing against the wall, Beca fought back a sheepish grin and steeled her gaze into an emotionless mask. Her chest panged as she noticed a slight break in Chloe's expression, but she continued to bear the neutral look. (Nothing in her life had ever weighed as heavy as this invisible mask on her emotions.)

It was Chloe who spoke first. Beca could see Chloe's fingers trembling, and her eyes traced the slight quiver of Chloe's jaw as the redhead pushed past her nerves and began to speak. "Beca," she began, bright eyes boring into Beca's own. "We need to talk."

Stiffening her back, Beca replied harshly, "No, we – "

Chloe cut her off before she could even finish. " _Yes,_  we do." Beca was tempted to squirm out of the way of Chloe's piercing gaze, but a hand hit the wall next to her, and Beca found herself pinned in by a very angry blonde and a very determined redhead. "Not here." Chloe glanced at the clock. "We don't have time. But today, after school, you will meet me by the back entrance, and we are going to discuss this like reasonable  _adults_. I've given you time, and I'm not going to force anything, but I need to know where we stand." Her voice fell quiet. "I need to know what happened to my best friend."

Beca swallowed, and she could feel the tears start to prick at her eyes. God, every look from Chloe, every broken gaze and hitched sigh; they pierced Beca's heart, sharp pains as a constant reminder of who she was hurting. But her mind continued to scold her heart, and Beca closed her eyes and counted to ten, reminding herself for the umpteenth time that this would benefit Chloe in the long run. It  _would_. She just needed to tough it out, to stay strong.

Her eyes stayed dry.

Opening them once more, Beca gave a tight nod. "Fine." Her voice was terse. "I'll meet you there. Now excuse me, but I have to get to class." She brushed past Chloe's arms and slipped through the small gaps in the crowd as she made her way to her first period.

Beca needed to make it final. She needed to let it be known, once and for all, that she and Chloe were no longer friends. She needed to cut every last tie between them, and Chloe had just presented the perfect opportunity.

All that remained was to see if Beca was strong enough to take it.

…

It was done.

As Beca left for class, Chloe felt what little strength she had leave her body in a whoosh, and she stumbled backwards. Aubrey grabbed her in steady arms, and Chloe shot her a smile before righting herself.

"And now we wait," Chloe murmured.

Aubrey placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Chloe was thankful that, for once, she appeared to be keeping her temper reined in.

Repeating Chloe's words, Aubrey said, "And now we wait."

…

Some days passed by agonizingly slow, with seconds that passed like minutes and hours that stretched for days. The shuffling of papers, the tick of the clock, and the  _tap tap tap_  of a pencil was the soundtrack, and sheer excruciating boredom was the theme.

Today was not one of those days.

Beca's leg bounced up and down fervently as she eyed the clock on the wall with growing anticipation.

Thirty minutes left of the day, and then she was to meet Chloe, rip out her heart, and stomp it into little bitty pieces.  _Clearly_  something Beca wanted to do.

She bit her lip and fiddled with the card string around her neck as the music theory teacher discussed the first big assignment of the semester. The hand not fiddling with the string was rapping a steady tempo on the wooden top of the desk, and Beca wished more than anything that she could be anywhere but here.

"Beca, since you seem to be paying attention so well, give me an example of a perfect fifth," the teacher instructed, snapping Beca out of her reverie. With a startled jerk, her arm sent her pencil flying over the edge of the desk, and she flushed.

"C to G," she mumbled, and Ms. Cadence nodded her satisfaction, moving back to the board to continue her lesson.

Grumbling to herself, Beca was about to lean down to pick up her pencil, but something stopped her movement. She froze, and her eyes honed in on the utensil lying on the floor as fog began to seep into her thoughts.

The pencil.

She needed to pick up the pencil.

It was as if her mind was a record player, and the tape had gotten stuck, looping on repeat in her head.

The pencil. The pencil. She needed to pick up the pencil.

Beca needed to pick up the pencil.

The pencil.

Her hand gripped the desk and her knuckles turned white.

The pencil.

The floor stretched on beneath her, and suddenly the pencil was hundreds of feet down.

She needed to pick up the pencil.

It was a cliff, yawning before her, and she stood at the very precipice, balanced precariously on the edge of her seat, about to fall.

The pencil.

Her hand loosened.

The pencil.

She let go.

She fell.

Her world was muffled as she dropped, and in the distance she could hear the scrapes of chairs and screams of panic, and as she hit the ground her limbs shot out in different directions, and she tried, so hard, to grab that pencil, but her hands and arms shot up into the air, and back down, and up again, and everything was so  _far away_.

Jerking hands grabbed her and turned her on her side as her head lolled forward and her limbs flailed and her mouth opened and gasped and air came out but none came in.

Miles away, she could hear voices calling for help, voices calling for people to move, voices that she could barely hear in a world of dull noise and blurred vision.

As her eyelids fluttered and her body slowed, warm hands lifted her up in the air, up up up, and then she was moving, going  _somewhere_ , and there were flashing red lights and people with bright clothes and –

Beca never did pick up the pencil.

…

"Did you hear about the girl who – "

" – passed out, right in the middle of class – "

" – hope she's okay – "

" – did they say why – "

" – heard she just threw herself on the floor – "

" – not a seizure, they're just exaggerating – "

" – her name? What was her name again?"

" – some quiet kid, no one knows – "

" – even cares, she probably just wanted attention – "

" – ambulance came – "

" – nurse seemed like she knew – "

" – was there, it was so terrifying – "

" – can't even begin to imagine how scary that must've been – "

" – to the hospital, and no one's heard anything since."

…

The bell rang. Chloe raked her hands through her hair, shouldered her backpack, and marched out of the classroom. Students rushing to the bus jostled her left and right, but she kept her strides strong and path steady, and it was only when she reached the back entrance that she faltered, because now she would find out, once and for all, if the friendship, the  _love_ , she'd shared with Beca, was all gone.

Five years. Five years of laughter and smiles and a light as bright as the sun.

Five years that might disappear in an instant.

Fighting back a sniffle, Chloe shut her eyes tightly and inhaled.  _No_. She would not cry. Not until she knew the truth, not until it was (or wasn't,  _please_ wasn't) confirmed that Beca no longer wanted to be her friend, that her feelings had officially messed everything up for good.

It didn't – it didn't make sense, though.

This wasn't the Beca Chloe knew.

The Beca Chloe had come to known over the last five years would never throw away their friendship. She would never let feelings come between them, and she would never purposefully hurt Chloe. Her eyes had always held a mischievous twinkling, and her sarcasm was sharp, but never enough to wound. Beca was kind and loyal and, no matter how much she denied it,  _loving_.

The Beca from the past week and a half was so, so different from the Beca Chloe knew, and it scared her.

This Beca, with her hard gaze and steely eyes and stony face – this was  _not_  Chloe's Beca.

And it hurt, more than anything, to think that, for some reason, Chloe's Beca was gone. Well and truly gone.

This meeting would determine that. This meeting would determine, once and for all, Beca's stance on their relationship.

Only –

Beca wasn't here yet. As Chloe saw Aubrey approaching from the corner of her eye, she glanced down at her watch and frowned. It was already ten minutes after the bell's ring, and there was no sign of Beca anywhere.

Aubrey matched her frown as she came closer, and Chloe scanned the area, looking and listening for anything that might indicate Beca's presence.

Nothing but a few snippets of gossip – some poor girl had fainted in class – and a handful of curious gazes.

"Where is she?" Aubrey's voice was quiet, but there was something positively fatal in her tone, and Chloe winced.

"She'll be here," she assured, checking her watch yet again. "She said she would."

Time passed. The sidewalks cleared as students left for home, and still Chloe stood, feeling more helpless by the second. A fist squeezed her heart with every minute that passed, and after thirty minutes of tense silence, Chloe whispered brokenly, "She's not coming."

…

Walls of white greeted Beca when she regained consciousness, but all she saw was red.

Practically snarling, Beca ripped the sheets from her body and tossed them to the ground in a crumpled heap. An alarmed nurse poked his head in, saw the mess, and immediately ran for help, but Beca ignored him as she felt her veins pulse in  _rage_.

The meeting with Chloe that she'd now missed, the class she'd disrupted, the questions she'd have to face tomorrow – all because her stupid fucking body decided to give her a stupid fucking seizure.

And all that rage she thought had finally been gone, had finally left, flooded back, and she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Grabbing her wig, she tossed it to the floor in her fit, staring at the lifeless item in disgust. At least the piece of junk hadn't fallen off during her seizure, but that little fact did nothing to calm her down.

The nurse returned, this time with a worried Doctor Krebs in tow. "Beca, are you – "

"I'm pissed," Beca answered, leaving no room for the question to finish. "I'm pissed. I'm so fucking sick and tired of this shit, of having seizures and therapy and  _brain fucking cancer_ , and I just – I need to be alone. Okay?"

Doctor Krebs' eyes held something akin to empathy as she held up a finger and said, "I'll be right back." Only a moment had passed before she returned, water bottle in hand. Scooping the wig off the floor and offering both items to Beca, she told, "There's a park nearby, down a block or so. Stay hydrated, walk it off, and promise to come back."

Beca took the water, shoved the wig back on, gave a stiff nod, and nearly launched herself out of the room. Her footsteps thundered in the quiet halls as she walked briskly out of the building, nearly trembling with all of the rage at the injustice of the world, of her situation, of the joke her life had become.

…

"Are you even kidding me!" Aubrey shouted to the empty parking lot.

…

"Are you even kidding me," Beca growled to the empty park.

…

"I'm sick of this!" Aubrey threw her hands wide.

…

"Of all of this!" Beca kicked at the ground.

…

"The excuses – "

…

" – the lies – "

…

" – the pain – "

…

" – and the shit to put up with!" Beca ground out through a tight jaw.

…

"I'm tired of seeing – "

…

"I'm tired of making – "

…

" – you – "

…

" – Chloe – "

…

" – get hurt!" Across town from each other, Beca's and Aubrey's tirades lined up.

…

"How dare she – " Aubrey clenched her fist.

…

" – fuck everything up – " Beca gritted her teeth.

…

" – and throw you away – "

…

" – like you're – "

…

" – she's – "

…

" – worth nothing, when you're – "

…

" – she's – "

…

" – worth  _so much more_!" Again their voices swelled, words identical as one raged to a friend and the other to air.

…

"No more – " Aubrey yelled.

…

" – of this," Beca finished. "No more – "

…

" – running – "

…

" – stalling – "

…

" – and hiding – "

…

" – and hoping."

…

"It's time to end this – "

…

" – once – "

…

" – and – "

…

" – for all," Beca and Aubrey said resolutely.

…

"It's time to realize that every day your face breaks more, and I can't keep watching Beca disappoint you, Chloe, I can't keep watching you shatter. I'll always be here to pick up the pieces, but that should never be something I have to do." Aubrey's voice broke as she reached out her hands to cup Chloe's cheeks, gently brushing away the tears streaming down the redhead's face.

…

_It's time to realize that my best hope left is to throw it all away, to take this relationship and finally end it, to finally sever all ties. I can't keep watching her break, I can't keep_ causing _her to hurt, because if she shatters, I won't be there to pick up the pieces._

Beca gave a strangled yell, alone in the park and the world. Her voice caught in her throat, and the yell choked into silence. Angrily brushing the tears from her eyes, Beca involuntarily let out a high, keening whine, and her face twisted into a snarl as she raised her hand, curled her fingers, and punched the nearest tree.

Pulling her hand back, she let loose a mocking laugh as dirt and blood mingled on the tips of her knuckles. The pain was a dull sting in the back of her mind as her emotional turmoil whipped a storm inside of her head, howling winds that screamed her anger and frustration in her thoughts.

Beca curled her hand into a fist once more, leaned against the tree, and slowly sank down against it as the tears fell, accompanied only by silent sobs. She closed her eyes and relinquished her consciousness to a welcome sleep.

…

The drive was silent as Chloe clutched the wheel of the car with white hands and mouth drawn down in a taut bow. Her thoughts were racing, chasing each other in little circles around her mind, but with no clear winner, they remained a jumbled mess, and Chloe was unable to sort through any of them.

None of it made sense.

None of it made sense, why Beca would abandon her, turn her back, throw away their friendship and then go so far as to stand up their meeting, the one meeting that would finally allow them to air their feelings, to finally allow  _Chloe_  to understand the past week and a half, and to understand where she stood with her best friend. Ex-best friend. Chloe didn't even know what Beca was to her anymore, and that tore her heart in half.

As Chloe turned the corner onto Beca's street, she stiffened at the sight of a black car in the driveway, beaten, aged, and covered in a thin film of dust, but without a doubt the same car she'd once seen resting in the driveway of this house several years ago.

"Her dad?" Chloe murmured, bringing the car to a slow halt a couple of houses down. "Is that why?"

Next to her, Aubrey jerked her head towards Chloe in disbelief. "What? Her dad? Is her dad back?"

Chloe nodded mutely, lifting a hand to point a shaking finger at the familiar black car.

Aubrey scoffed in disbelief. "No way. Please don't tell me  _that's_  why she's gone crazy!  _God_ , I knew she had daddy issues, but that – "

" _Aubrey_ ," Chloe reprimanded sharply.

" _Chloe_ ," Aubrey retorted, crossing her arms. "Don't you dare chastise me. I don't have a perfect home life either, but it doesn't give me the excuse to turn into a self-righteous  _asshole_  and toss my friends to the curb! If  _this_  is the reason for Beca's behavior, then you have got to be shitting me, because this is, quite frankly, the dumbest thing I have ever heard of."

Biting back harsh words that Chloe knew she would regret, she opted for a quieter, but still vehement, tone. "You don't know what it was like for Beca," Chloe said forcefully. "You don't know what she went through, every day in middle school. Her parents tore her apart, and her dad leaving did a number on her that you'll never understand."

Aubrey sneered. "No, you're right, I won't understand, because it wasn't me. But what I  _do_  understand is that Beca has been pulling a giant load of bullshit these past two weeks, and I will  _not_ stand passively by and watch her continue to hurt you!"

Chloe opened the car door and stepped out, brushing off Aubrey's cries of indignation at being ignored. As they walked to Beca's doorstep, and Aubrey continued to rant, Chloe could feel a faint fluttering in her chest. Even as they tried the doorbell, waited for several minutes, and finally came to the conclusion that no one was home, the feeling bubbled inside her. As Aubrey huffed and stormed away, Chloe followed silently behind, and as the tingling continued, she found herself finally able to place a name to it.

_Hope_.

_Hope_ , that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason behind it all. A reason that could be resolved.

…

Shoulders slouched and head low, Beca made her way back inside the hospital, slinking through the automatic doors and cradling her injured hand, the skin still raw and bleeding. Spotting her parents sitting in the waiting room – her mom bouncing her leg and attempting to read a magazine as her dad agitatedly twiddled his thumbs and stared at the opposite wall – Beca silently walked towards them, tossing her empty bottle of water in a bin.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Both heads jerked up at once, relief flooding their eyes. Gaze honing in on Beca's hand, her mom stood hurriedly. "What happened?" she asked, worry and fear flooding her voice.

Smiling sheepishly, Beca mumbled, "I, uh, had a bit of an accident."

"I'll say." Her dad shook his head, but the genuine smile on his face betrayed his utter relief, and it felt nice to know that, even if one important relationship was about to end, at least another had been mended. "I'll, uh, I'll let your mother take you to the back rooms. Maybe let a nurse bandage that up." He rubbed his neck and looked away, and the man looked more awkward than she had ever seen him in his life, but it finally lent a bit of humanity that the image in her mind had been lacking for five years.

"Sure thing," she agreed, and let her mom lead her away from the sitting room.

Beca was still angry, certainly. It bubbled beneath the surface, a rage that couldn't be quelled until the world stopped blowing things up in her face, and  _that_  was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

But after yelling and crying and punching, Beca found herself more tired than anything.

As a nurse cleaned her knuckles, Beca barely winced at the sting of the alcohol, and her mind drifted away to tomorrow's inevitable conversation; and all of the sorrow and rage she'd felt, though still lingering in her mind, was suddenly swept away in a wave of complete and utter fatigue.

…

Beca expected nothing less when Aubrey and Chloe cornered her the next morning, but she mumbled an excuse, and though Aubrey was practically snarling, they decided to drop it until lunchtime.

…

Chloe's head was up, and the table in front of her was empty. Aubrey was in the middle of scolding her for not grabbing any food, but Chloe was too focused on the doorways. Her eyes scanned over every entering student, and her muscles tensed at each person that walked through the door.

And then, at last, Beca entered.

Chloe's chair scraped back as she leapt from her seat and nearly sprinted across the room, dodging through students and wrapping a determined hand around Beca's wrist. Beca's eyes barely had any time to widen before she was being dragged back across the room and seated at the table.

Chloe took the seat next to the stunned Beca and wasted absolutely no time in getting to the matter at hand. "Is this because of your dad?"

Beca's eyebrows shot up, and her jaw dropped. "I – what?"

"Is this because of your dad?" Chloe repeated, voice urgent.

"What do you mean – "

Aubrey cut her off before she could even finish. "This whole thing. This whole 'pretending-we're-not-friends' thing."

Beca dryly commented, "Aubrey, we're  _not_ friends. You hate me."

Before Chloe had the chance to hold her back, Aubrey was standing, looming over Beca as her voice began to raise. "No, you know what, don't you  _dare_  take that tone with me! I know our relationship, and yeah, we're not the best of friends, but we  _are_  friends, and you need to grow up and realize that what you're doing is beyond horrible." Chloe's eyes flitted to the side as heads began turn. Aubrey's voice continued to rise. "And you know who  _is_ your friend?  _Chloe_!"

Resting a hand on Aubrey's shoulder, Chloe attempted to point out the situation. "Aubrey, maybe we should – "

"No, Chloe,  _enough_! Stop defending her! Stop defending the fact that she's screwed you over, that she's torn you apart, that she's even worth your forgiveness anymore! Stop acting like there's an excuse for her behavior, because I don't give a  _fuck_  about her dad! She has  _no right_  to treat you the way she has!" The cafeteria was almost silent as Aubrey finished her tirade, her shouts reverberating in the air as students stared in shock.

But Beca –

Beca wasn't shocked, or angry. She didn't say a word. It was as if she had shut down completely, and Chloe ached to reach out and take her in her arms, but before she could do anything, Beca was standing and leaving, footsteps loud in the silence.

And Chloe couldn't move.

Her feet were frozen to the tile, and her hands were trapped in a halfway position, arms crooked as they had begun to reach out.

And then a whisper broke the silence.

"Isn't that the girl who fainted?"

Chloe's eyes widened, her face blanched, and she ran.

…

Beca felt like she should have been prepared for Chloe to run after her. She should have.

And she also should have been prepared for the fact that rumors of yesterday's classroom seizure would have circulated by now, and that, just maybe, Chloe would hear of them, and that, just maybe, someone would question her on it.

She wasn't prepared.

When Chloe tore down the empty hallway behind her and nearly slammed her into the lockers, Beca could only stare in shock at the panic lacing the redhead's expression. "Are you okay?" Chloe panted out, and absolute fear shone in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she repeated. "I heard that you fainted, oh  _god_  Beca, are you okay? Is that why you missed our meeting? You're okay, though, right?"

And it was the stark terror in Chloe's voice, the trembling limbs and the shaky breaths, that lent Beca the last spurt of strength she needed to finish it off. To finally,  _finally_ , end this.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered dully. "I didn't have enough to eat, I fainted, that's it."

And Chloe exhaled in relief, and Beca closed her eyes.

"Yes, that's why I missed our meeting."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but Beca beat her to it.

"If you want to know my response, then know this – we're through."

She sounded like a robot: lifeless.

Chloe's expression cracked.

"I don't want to be your friend."

The tone droned in Beca's ears, and her heart screamed at her to stop.

The cracks expanded.

"Please don't ever talk to me again."

Chloe's expression shattered, and Beca gave one cool glance before spinning on her heel and walking out of the building, shouldering her backpack and leaving school without a single glance behind her. In a vault of emotions dwelling within her, a key was turned, and a lock was set.

…

Two months passed in a blur of painful therapy and a dull weariness that shrouded each step she took, and every day, Beca Mitchell wasted away just a little bit more.


End file.
